Quixotic

Quixotic Chapter Sixteen (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…I know what you got
for Yuuuuuule! *eg * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, and Dracena
get big heap muse kibble for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile gets a lovely Eowyn muse because
I’m all about her right now, lol.
Readers/Reviewers: I love you
people. Really. You make me feel sparkley all the way down
to my toes and back again. J

 

 

 

Kitty found
a spot beyond Emma’s shoulder quite interesting as the older woman peered at
her, a faint smirk playing on her otherwise cool features. “I’m not going to give you a lecture on what
you should and shouldn’t do or can and can’t do with your own body and someone
else’s. I will say that you should be a
bit more discreet based on some of the stories I’ve heard around here.” Kitty’s only response was a slight
tightening on her jaw. Emma’s smirk became something more ironic as she pressed
on. “Professor Xavier might be too
polite to snoop in his ge’sge’s minds, but I’m not. I have no charges yet so I’m still a free agent, so to speak.”

Kitty
clenched her hands into fists, violation spiking through her body. “You didn’t have my permission!”

“I know.”

She stared
at Emma’s nonchalant expression, her casual ease in admitting this willful
intrusion. “You can’t do that!”

“On the
contrary. I can and I did. It’s just impolite.” Shoving away from the desk on which she had
been leaning, Emma began pacing the room in a very relaxed manner, looking at
knick knacks, studying framed photos, all in all driving Kitty mad.

“Emma, what
do you need from me? Why did you drag
me up to the third floor if all you’re going to do is rub my face in the fact
you read my mind?”

Emma
paused, a picture of some unknown Xavier clan members in her hand and peered at
Kitty over the edge of the frame. “Do
you speak to all adults like that?”

“Only ones
who get on my nerves!”

“Kitty
Pryde,” Emma said softly but cuttingly, “you must learn respect. And patience. I may not be a teacher here but I am an adult and while I
am…training…under Professor Xavier, you show me the respect accorded to any
member of this household, is that understood?”

Kitty
quailed slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Emma’s
smile became edged. “Good. When you leave here, go downstairs and help
Jean and the boys set up the decorations for Professor Xavier’s party. That should be punishment enough.”

Her mind
ground to a halt, her insides turning to ice.
“Party…oh, hell…” She had
entirely forgotten about the Professor’s fundraising to-do, scheduled when the
fewest students possible would be in residence. “He can’t have that
tomorrow! What if Kurt’s still…”

“Which
brings me,” Emma said loudly to be heard over Kitty’s imminent babble, “to
this. I know the Professor and Beast
have told you to humor K tha that this will work out of his system, but on my
little…mental walkabout, I saw some things that might be best served by your
notion.”

“Uh…what?”

“You
thought that maybe Kurt needed a damsel in distress, correct?”

Kitty
nodded, suddenly eager for someone to understand her idea. “I figured, all these people he keeps
switching between, they’re all the heroes, the guys who get the girl, rescue
her from the dragon or whatever. What
if he got that? Maybe that’ll snap him
out of it.”

Emma tilted
her head to one side in assent, showing her approval of the notion. “Kurt is, at heart, a very uncertain young
man. Over the past year, from what I
have heard and, er, seen, he has become more confident because of his
association with you. He’s become more
outgoing and less prone to self deprecation.
Inside, however, this is not the case.”

“Why?” she bleated
plaintivelter ter a beat. “Is it me?”

“Kitty,”
Emma sighed, “you are a very sweet girl but you need to look beyond the end of
your own nose sometimes! The part of
Kurt that is insecure, that, at the risk of giving you a swelled head, can’t
believe his luck in having you for his lover,” she noted Kitty’s blush and
smirked, “is manifesting. He still
wants to win you over, He wants to
prove he’s a heroic figure. Day in and
day out, he trains to be one of the team here, but in his heart of hearts, he
wants to be this Robin Hood or knight errant.
He wants to sweep you off your feet, fight the bad guys and,” she cast
about vaguely, “leap off things and say ha-ha!”[1]

Kitty
smiled thinly. “I noticed. So what good does this do me?”

“If you’re
going to play along, play along. Don’t
try and explain reality to him. Be Maid
Marian, go all out.”

“You’re
kidding.”

“Afraid
not. I’m not the therapist
Charles…Professor Xavier is…but I know pain when I see it. All he is doing is because of you, at the
core.”

“Great. No
pressure.”

Emma
snorted softly. “Let me phrase that
more appropriately. You are his current
catalyst. His entire life, Kurt has
wanted nothing more than to be special to someone, to be a hero, of any
sort. You are the most important person
in his life now so he wants it to be you.”

Kitty
sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach.”So…?”

“So go with
it. They were partially right in
telling you to humor him. What is most
important is that he fulfills his fantasy.”

“Can’t I
just keep whacking him on the head until he snaps out of it?”

Emma rolled
her eyes. “This isn’t a cartoon,
Kitty.”

“So I
hear…”

“Get Rahne
on your way down to help Jean. She’s with Jamie in the infirmary.”

“Yes,
ma’am.”

“And
Kitty? Try not to look so tragic. At least it’s just Robin Hood. It could be worse. He could think he’s Joan of Arc[2]
and you’d have to be Saint Michael.”[3]

 

 

Rogue slid
her arms around Todd’s waist and nipped the back of his neck sharply. “What’s the occasion?”

“You’d
better be glad I heard you come in. I
could’ve hurt you if you surprised me.”

“Right. After I got done kicking your ass, you
mean.”

“Ooooh,
baby, you know I like it rough.”

“Dork,” she
snorted, smacking him on his rear.

Todd turned
in her arms, the water from the shower running in rivulets down his face and
back. “Me an’ Lance got stuck helpin’
Logan put up the friggin’ huge tree in the entryway. Scott an’ St John an’ Bobby bailed or somethin’,” He managed a shrug and grinned. “Did I ever tell you I’m happy you’re tall?”

Rogue
raised her eyebrows and swayed closer, her bare skin brushing against his
tantalizingly. “Oh?”

“Yeah…makes
it easier for me to do this…” Without further ado, he ducked his head and
captured one of her rosy nipples in his mouth, drawing on her harder than she
expected.

Gasping in
surprise, she clutched at his neck and arched her back to bring him even
closer. “In a hurry?” she finally
managed.

“Safe day…”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve been
saving up…have three weeks’ worth of sexual frustration to take out here.”

“Not like
we don’t do anything between times,” she snarked, though she did not pull away.

He looked
up at her, worry flickering in his eyes.
“Want me to stop?”

“No, not
really…” She smiled and trailed her
finders down his chest, lingering over the homemade tattoo bearing her name
before traveling lower. “Just one
little request…something we can’t really do during the rest of the month.”

Todd’s
worry vanished in an instant. “Oh…no
problem,” he grinned. Regardless of the
hard surface of the shower floor, he dropped to his knees in front of her as
she moved back to lean against the wall.
Her pale thighs parted before him, offering a tantalizing view of pink
flesh and quivering femininity. He
grasped her hips tentatively at first, trying to decide if he should go slowly
or just…go… when Rogue’s faint murmur of urgency made the decision for him.

The first
touch of his tongue on her inner folds made her shiver deliciously with want
and need. She pushed her hips forward,
offering greater access to her desire.
She gave the towel rack above her head an experimental tug before
deciding it would bear her weight at least briefly and braced herself with it,
closing her eyes as his attentions became less reverent and more fervent,
seeking and tasting, murmuring appreciating into her flesh as tiny moans
escaped her throat. His fingers skimmed down her hips to her thighs and back
before he slid one into her depths, completing her torment as she could not
control the urge to thrust against his tongue and touch. Todd moaned with the taste of her on his
tongue, the feeling of her desire on his lips and skin, sending trilling
vibrations through her body as minutes and hours and days and weeks of pent up
desire broke their dam and began to pour through her veins towards the end of
things. When he closed his lips over
the nub of her desire and drew hard, she cried out sharply, her muscles
becoming as jelly for a moment until she managed some control in her burning
limbs. All her senses seemed to focus
on one small part of her body, blood pounding in her ears and chest and stomach
as Todd lapped eagerly at the apex of her thighs. “Stop,” she breathed after a minute. “Stop for a sec…”

He leaned
back and peered up at her hazily. “Something wrong?”

“Bed. Now.”

“Don’t have
to ask twice…” The shower hastily
abandoned, Todd let Rogue have the towel as he rummaged through the drawers for
his remaining condoms. She exited first
and then stopped short, a startled shriek caught in her throat. “What?” he demanded.

“Kurt!”

“Uh, that
ain’t somethin’ I like to hear in the middle of this, you know…” He peeked around her bare arm and saw the
cause of her exclamation. Kurt was
busily trying to jimmy open his window.
“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Den of inequity!”
Kurt spat. “I’m trapped like a rat!”

Rogue
pulled the towel tightly around her nudity and scurried to hide behind Todd,
who made do with his hands. “Get out of
my room!”

Kurt looked
on the verge of panic. Scott could be heard calling for him clearly. “I wish,”
Kurt began, then looked startled. He
disappeared in a familiar sulfurous cloud.

“Well,”
Todd said after a moment. “Looks like
he remembered how to port…”

 

A/N Next chapter will have Jamie/Rahne-ness…



[1] Some random
joke list about being a swashbuckler. I
think it was a Jack Handey quote.

[2] ProPhile
suggested Joan of Arc for one of Kurt’s personalities. I still like the idea.

[3] If I recall
my Lives of the Saints, Saint Michael, the archangel of war and such,
was the one whispering in Joan’s ear.