The Tarot Saga: Sex and Candy | By : fuzzybluelogic Category: X-men Comics > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
“Cuz we’re the piraaaates, who don’t do anythiiing. We just
stay home and lay arooound. If you ask us to do anything, we’ll just tell you,
we don’t do anything!” Jean and Kurt, a Lemon Heads sucker tucked into his
cheek, sang happily...and loudly...from the backseat of the van. “...And I
never hoist the mainstay and I never swab the poop-deck, and I never veer to
starboard ‘cuz I never sail at all, and I’ve never walked the gangplank and
I’ve never owned a parrot and I’ve never been to Boston in the faaaaaaall.”
“What are they singing?” Sage turned
around and looked at the pair, who had exchanged headwear, Kurt’s tricorn and
Jean’s flowered wreath, and continuedbeltbelt out the song. Kitty bounced along
to their singing, slurping noisily on a cotton candy flavored lollipop. She
spun to look at Sage, her Kurt-styled ringlets whacking Dani in the face. Dani
just sighed and went back to text messaging Jubilee, who was stuck at home with
a nasty head cold.
“The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything.
It’s from some religious kid’s show,” Kitty explained. “It’s about
anthropomorphic vegetables that teach lessons about morality and stuff.” She
climbed over the back of her seat.
“Gah!” Dani threw up her arm to protect
her head from Kitty’s butt and legs as she scrambled over the seat. Kurt
reached out and pulled her back. She tumbled onto his lap, her head flopping on
Jean’s knees. Her lime green Converse Hi-tops nearly decapitating Dani as she
swung her legs over. Sage watched with a raised eyebrow.
“Hey, now!” Bobby yelled from the
driver’s seat. “No getting me pulled over!”
“Sorry!” Kitty called back, righting
herself and settling in between Jean and Kurt. Kurt and Kitty looked at each
othereingeing each other’s white sucker sticks.
“Cotton Candy,” Kitty stated.
“Lemon Head,” Kurt nodded. Coming to some sort of unspoken
agreement, they exchanged lollipops.
“I will not even go into how
unhygienic that is,” Dani commented.
“No more so then a kiss,” Hank replied
quietly from the front passenger seat.
Kitty popped the Lemon Head lollipop
into her mouth. “Neat. Tastes just like it. They need to make an Atomic
Fireball one.”
“They probably do,” Kurt tucked the
Cotton Candy sucker into his cheek. The sweet candyfloss flavor immediately
filled his mouth, along with...something else. He could taste Kitty. Her scent,
her flavor...her. The sensation made him ache. The slight headache he
had had since Toronto ebbed back. Something inside him popped
gl
glanced over at Kitty, rolling her half-eaten sucker around with his tongue.
She was chattering merrily to Jean about what garb she would buy when she got
to the Faire. He was rock hard. He flicked his tongue over the candy and
suddenly pictured himself with his face buried between Kitty’s legs, working
his tongue around her little bud. She was a virgin, he could tell, how...he
wasn’t sure. He just knew. He felt a low, rumbling purr begin in his
chest at the thought. He’d like to be the first one to make her squirm, her
hands wound in his hair, tasting her as she came, drinking her as she screamed...
Kurt snapped out of his weird little
reverie as he bit down on the sucker and drove one of his fangs right into his
own tongue.
“Ow!” Kurt clamped his hand over his
mouth as a little bit of blood-tinged spit dribbled down his chin. What.
The. Fuck. Was. That? The ache was still there but the dark fantasy faded
away. Gott, what’s wrong with me?
“You ok?”
“Kurt?” Jean and Kitty both turned
towards him. He felt how flushed his cheeks were and gave a little prayer of
thanks that he was Induced, since even his dark coloring wouldn’t have been
able to hide the rush of violet to his cheeks.
“Bit mah tongue,” he explained, still
holding his hand over his mouth. Jean pulled a Kleenex from her purse and
handed it to him. He gratefully took it and set to cleaning his face up. Now
all he could taste was the coppery bite of his own blood.
“Oooouch. You pierced your own tongue.
You all right, Fuzzy?” Kitty rested one of her hands on the velvet rope that
was lashed firmly but gently around her waist. Kurt felt even more heat rise to
his face, he hadn’t even been aware of wrapping his tail around her. He let his
tail slide away from her. OK, I’m seriously fucked up.
“I’m
fine.” His tongue was still bleeding slightly. Kitty didn’t seem concerned or
even that much conscious of his tail. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.
His cell phone rang. His voice was just a smidge jittery as he answered it.
“Wagner.”
“Hey, Elf,” Logan’s voice
greeted him
“Hey, Logan.” At Kurt’s response, Sage
turned to look at him. He gestured towards the phone and shrugged.
“Yeah, tell Sage that tomorrow is
no good. Black Team needs to have a sit down. Learned some interesting shit
from Cyke.”
“What interesting shit? Should we come
back?” Kurt frowned.
“Nah, do your Faire thing, we’ll
hash shit when you guys get back.”
“Ok, I’ll pass it on.” Kurt looked
over at Sage. “We’ll see you when we get back.”
“Ok, see you later, Elf.”
“Bye.” Kurt hung up and pulled the
golf pencil he always carried from his coat pocket. He set to painstakingly
text messaging Remy about the mandatory Black Team meeting later that evening,
using the pencil to tap out the message on keys that were too small for his
fingers.
“Well?” Sage asked him.
“Black Team will meet tonight and
discuss the mission, Logan has news. He wants to postpone heading to Madripoor
until Friday.” Kurt sighed, knowing that Sage was going to be irritated. “I
need to talk to Black Team anyway. Jean, would you be there, too?”
“Sure, hon. Everything ok?” Jean
reached past Kitty to squeeze Kurt's shoulder.
The I don’t know, died on his
lips. Instead he smiled and swapped his tricorn back, planting her green
flowered wreath back on her head.
“Everything’s fine.”
**
Warren dragged the Hoover Steam-Vac
laboriously down the hall. The Eco-System of Warrentopia had taken a nasty
turn. Three Bottles of Febreeze had done nothing to kill the strange odor and
had only rendered the landscape of Warrentopia unpleasantly moist. His latest
Viceroy, Piotr, had indulged in a *M*A*S*H* marathon with him last eve. There
had been some beer and sour cream spillage. Piotr had kindly brought some tasty
but unpronounceable Russian eatables that were laden with the Siberian National
Diary Product. Seven hours into the glory of the four-oh-seven-seven, Remy had
stopped by with some of his homemade spicy pickled eggs with more beer, bearing
Scott in tow. The aroma of the pickled eggs had summoned the new guy,
Wolverine. The five of them spent a very manly evening drinking beer, eating
pickled eggs and watching TV. Warren was pleased; his Laziness had reached a
pinnacle. Unfortunately, the return to Law School loomed on the horizon. Also
unfortunately, pickled egg brine had joined the beer and sour cream ground into
the upholstery.
He approached the much-abused couch
with reverent trepidation. He’d never used the Steam-Vac before and didn’t want
to err and damage his beloved Monarchy. The couch known as Warrentopia sat
lumpily against the wall of the rec room, its unhappy smell wafting in the air
conditioner enhanced breeze. Warren plugged in the steamer and dumped the
appropriate amount of shampoo into the tank. He’d already vacuumed the thing,
amazed at the sheer amount of feathers tucked beneath the cushions along with
requisite spare change and Cheetos. A hearty cache of lollipop sticks and
indigo lint brought proof that Kurt used to spend endless amounts of time
adhered to the cushions of the sofa pre-Warrentopia. Warren’s Dynasty of
Laziness had usurped Kurt’s former claim to the couch.
After he figured out how to get the
upholstery attachment assembled, Warren kicked on the machine with his toe and
set to work. He marveled at the sounds the steamer made as he sucked what
looked like blue-ish brown-ish mud from the cushions. The reservoir tank filled
almost instantly with the murky sludge. Warren peered at it suspiciously. He
wondered if it was sentient. It burbled. Cautiously, he removed the tank from
the machine and headed off for the deep sink in the hall utility closet.
Jubilation Lee was miserable. She had
one of those wretched summer colds brought on by moving to a new place. New
locale, new germs. She shuffled down the hall clad in her Badtz Maru pajamas
and bright yellow bathrobe with a big box of Puffs Plus under her arm. Her hair
was bound up in a sloppy bun and her upper lip was shiny with a thick
application of Vicks Vapor Rub. She stepped aside to let Warren pass. Despite
his rumpled state and Oscar the Grouch pajama pants, he was still The Hotness.
Archangel totally had that sloppy rock-star/fallen angel thing going. Yum.
“Whatcha up to?” she asked, rather
stuffily, gesturing towards the tank of ooze. Warren paused and turned towards
her. He blinked.
“Are you new?” He cocked his head to
the side, his blond bangs falling into his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m Jubi-...hey!” Warren had
reached out, grabbed her wrist and was hauling her down the hall. “Uh, where
are we going.”
“I dub you Viceroy,” Warren announced
as he pulled her into the hall closet and started dumping the tank into the
deep sink. The sludge lurked ominously in the bottom of the basin. “Assist me
with the ecological cleansing of Warrentopia.” Jubilee stared at him for
second. Oh, right. The whole
Warren’s-batshit-crazy-because-of-law-school-and-hence-Warrentopia thing. Bobby
had given her a pamphlet on it, complete with FAQ and handy illustrations. She
stuffed her pockets full of Puffs Plus and set to her new post.
**
“Oof!” Kitty made a face as Jean laced
her up in her shiny new bodice. It was sapphire blue and lightly boned. She had
chosen a full circle brown twill skirt. “I’ve got cleavages,” she said merrily,
patting at the slight swelling above her neckline. Kurt was leaning against one
of the pillars inside one of the many Ye Olde Fyne Garb Shoppes at the
Renaissance Faire. Sage was still inspecting the available wares with a
slightly exasperated expression. Kurt picked up a book from a sale table and
thumbed through it, making his way over to her.
“What’s wrong,
Tessa-uh-Sedge...sorry.” She shot him a look. She glanced down at the book he
carried. Winter’s Elizabethan Costuming.
“If you want a real costuming book,
get Janet Arnold’s “Patterns of Fashion, that thing is complete dross,”
she snapped rather snarkily. She picked up a black bodice. “See? Fabric store
grommets. They’d rip out in a month.”
“Yes. No one knows for sure what
happened but these cards fell into the hands of someone skilled in magic and
they were...altered.” She continued. “They became something else. A deck of
blank cards that manifest images upon someone laying them down for a reading.
The deck is currently split, into Minor and Major Arcana. The reading is,
apparently, always right...and not vague or cryptic, but quite specific.”
“How very unlike Irene.... are you
sure sheateeated them?” Kurt’s voice had a very sharp edge to it.
“Do you know Destiny?” Sage asked,
curiously.
“You could say that,” Kurt answered, a
little harshly. “I lived with her for awhile.”
“I was not aware of that, perhaps you
could provide some insight into the cards themselves.” She bit into a spoonful
of her frozen lemonade.
“I doubt it. We weren’t “close”.” Kurt
shrugged. “So someone put the whammy on the cards and now what?”
“The Arcana is separated, but is still
incredibly accurate. The thing is: The deck requires a blood offering for a
peek into the future.” Sage chewed thoughtfully on an almond. “For every
accurate reading, someone’s life blood must be spilled.”
“Well, that’s...vicious.” Kurt sighed.
“So whoever has the deck has to keep killing to keep getting the predictions.”
“And they’re pimping themselves for
the right price,” she said. “My last lead was that Viper had commissioned use
of the Deck.”
“Oh, charming.”
“So, I was seeking out Wolverine. He
knows Madripoor and had ties to Viper.” She brushed an errant lock of hair from
her eyes. “There’s more.”
“Of course there is.” Kurt
scratched his head, “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“It’s saidt ift if the two Arcana are
brought together, then the user can actually not only predict the future, but manipulate
it. And ths a s a card missing, nobody knows where it is or if it even exists,
although it’s said that you need it to bind the two Arcana together.”
“And what’s that?”
“The Devil.”
“I suppose The Fool would have been
too cliché, what with it being the only unnumbered card in the deck?” Kurt
rubbed his eyes. His headache was back.
“The Hand wants the Deck as well.”
Sage continued, “They’ve been chasing me, hoping I’d lead them to it.”
“How did you find out about the Deck?”
Kurt asked.
“From a friend of mine that went
missing and then from Destiny herself.” Sage closed her eyes for a moment,
shutting out Marie-Ange’s desperate phone call that night.
“How many people have died because of
the Deck?” Kurt pulled his hat off and set it on the bench behind him. “It
sounds very Friday the Thirteenth, The Series or Needful Things.”
“I don’t know how many exactly...maybe
twelve or thirteen.” Sage set down her lemonade, “I counten whn who were killed
in exactly the same manner, using what seems to be the same ritual...I’m
allowing for a few more since the only requirement seems to be bleeding out
right before the reading.”
“Again with the charming.” Kurt
shoved his hat back on his head. “You think the Deck or at least half of it is
in Madripoor and you want Black Team to help you steal it.”
“Yes.”
“Ok, sounds like a plan. Tonight I’ll
sit down with Black Team and we’ll start organizing, then I’ll go out and get
very, very drunk.” Kurt tossed back the rest of the mead in his cup. His head
throbbed. He’d hit Benediction tonight. He needed some Excedrin then,
after the meeting, he’d get tarted up, head to the club and drown himself in a
sea of music, sweat, and sex. And alcohol...since he’d kicked everything else,
alcohol was his only chemical vice left. He needed to get completely and
utterly pissed.
“Nightcra-...Kurt, have you been
feeling all right since the ritual in Toronto? You’ve been having headaches and
then in the van-...”
Kurt looked up sharply, “You’ve been reading
my mind?”
“Of course, though my telepathy is
minor at best, I’ve been monitoring the surface thoughts of everyone I could.”
Sage tilted her head to the side and popped another almond in her mouth.
“The Professor or Jean would never pry
into our minds without permission,” Kurt mumbled without conviction.
Kurt shrugged, “You were there.”
“I am only vaguely aware of what
happened. Until you got that power inhibitor off me, my memory was
intermittently faulty. I’m missing data from that span of time. I can only
access a brief account of a man called Gregori touching me with some sort of
stone.” Sage shifted her weight and smoothed her skirts over her legs. She
unconsciously reached up to touch glasses that weren’t on her face. “The man
used the same stone’s dust in some sort of incantation against you, throwing
the dust into your face.”
“That man, some sort of sorcerer, had
triedsummsummon an incubus and accidentally got me, the down-side to my
teleportation power is the dimension I teleport through. The magical circle
didn’t even hold me, I could walk right out.”
“The spell he cast did have an
effect on you.”
Kurt rubbed his temples. Sage reached
down and into the bag containing her clothes, she yanked out her small purse
and retrieved a tin of Advil. Kurt gratefully accepted the pills and washed
them down with a swallow of Sage’s frozen lemonade.
“Yeah...yeah, it did.” He admitted, a
trace of worry in his voice.
(A/N: The delightful TKD beta'ed for me. Go and read her Evo fic "Playing with Fire", it is the shizznit) .
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