Quixotic

Quixotic Chapter Twenty Four (NC-17)

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Kurt felt
very inadequate. He had found no prey
to bring to Kitty and was ashamed to be returning empty handed. The frozen ground did not yield edible
plants and the few mushrooms he managed to find looked less than
appealing. He hesitated to return to
the clearing where he knew Kitty was waiting, cold and hungry. If I’m feeling the weather than surely
she must be miserable… He sighed
and padded softly through the trees, preparing to face her disappointment, when
something bright caught his eye. A
single coin lay amongst the leaves, silver and perfectly round, bearing the
likeness of a man unknown to him. At
least, he thought it was man.
Carefully, he picked it up and turned it over in his palm, staring at
it. This is not of our kingdom…Mayhap
it’s some strange conjuror’s tool?
Distracted, he wandered back the the clearing to find Kitty with a
blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a basket before her as she knelt on
the ground. “Where did this come from?”
he asked uneasily, taking in the scene with a sweep of his hand.

“Um, I
found it?” She sniffled, her nose red
from the cold. “It’s safe,” she added
as a precaution. Jean had put a thermos
of hot chocolate in the basket, which was rapidly cooling. While waiting, Kitty had downed half of the
drink in an effort to warm up and was sorely tempted to finish the lot before
Kurt had the chance to sit.

“Where?” he
asked more edgily, staring at the basket as if it would explode or bite him or
her. “People don’t just leave these
lying in the woods.”
Jean does if you ask her
to. “Um…there was a woman and
her…er…entourage that forgot it when the snow started to fall. They went back to the, um, castle.” She protectively grasped the handle of the
basket as if Kurt would take it from her.
“All of them.”

Kurt’s eyes
narrowed in suspicion, but he sat down across from Kitty anyway, the basket
between them. “Well…what’s in it?”

She sighed
inwardly in relief; if she was hungry, he must be near starving. “It looks like meat…ick…cheese, bread,
apples, and some random fruit stuff.”
Kitty silently blessed Jean for keeping the contents to things Kurt
would not readily quest sav saving her a world of trouble. “Oh, and hot cocoa.” Damn it!
They didn’t have cocoa in Robin Hood era England…

Kurt
frowned. “Was ist das?” He took the thermos from her and sniffed it. “It smells…sweet.”

“It’s good,”
she encouraged, stopping short of saying Yummy. “It’s from, um…far off.”

He accepted
this with a shrug, his backbrain saying that this was good, that it would not
cause him any harm, even when his forebrain did not recognize it at all. After the first sip, he smiled. “I can only hope the good lady who lost her
basket looses it again in our proximity.”
With a slurp, he polished off the rest of it in one long gulp.

Kitty
giggled, still shivering in cold but feeling somewhat better now that she was
sure he would not faint from lack of food or run off after their basket-leaving
benefactor. She pushed the ersatz
picnic his way and rocked back on her heels.
“I was thinking…Maybe we should move closer to the, um, castle? Sleep in the…outbuildings?” Uncertainty turned her ideas into questions,
not sure how ingrained the Robin Hood myth was in Kurt’s current state.

He had
already taken a large bite of chicken and had to work to speak around it. “That might not be a bad idea. There are
foreigners about, though…” He flipped
the quarter her way. “This is not
Richard nor is it even John. It is a
foreign king that uses strange letters…”[1]

Kitty
blinked at the coin laying on her lap before carefully picking it up. She shot Kurt a worried glance that he took
for concern over the possibility of strangers and asked carefully, “Does it
look at all familiar to you?”

“Funny
thing,” he said, swallowing his mouthful, “it does. I just can’t place where it’s from.”

Kitty
dropped the coin into the basket and thought hard for a moment before saying, “Is
there anything else like that? Things you
think you should recognize but don’t?”

Kurt
frowned and dropped the chicken bone into the basket before reaching for a
wedge of cheese. “That drink, for
one. Your accent. It’s strange, not of Britain at all. And earlier…” he paused and stared at the
cheese as if it were an oracle. “Earlier
I saw a winged man. My heart said angel
but I know he was not…” With wide,
scared eyes he pinned her to the spot. “Kitty,
what’s wrong with me?”

“What?” Her heart leapt in her breast. He’s going to pull himself out of it,
thank God! “Why do you think
something is wrong?”

“I didn’t
offer you anything to eat!” he exclaimed, sounding personally affronted. “Have…let me see…an apple?”
“No,” she sighed, wilting
visibly. “I’m fine, thank you.” With some effort, she struggled to her feet,
tightening the blanket around her. “I’m
going to head towards that green building,” she said steadily, trying not to
cry. Storm’s greenhouse would be warmer
than any of the other places save the boathouse and the mansion itself. “I’ll
meet you there.”

Hastily,
Kthrethrew his half eaten cheese into the basket and grabbed the whole thing
up, including the extra blanket Kitty had set it on, before hurrying after
her. “You can’t walk alone out here,
Liebes! You don’t know what villains…”
Kitty was so close to snapping
that she could feel it, like a dry twig bending just on the verge of breaking
behind her eyes. Taking a long, deep
breath, she let it out slowly and said, “I’ll be fine.” With strides to outmatch his, she headed
towards the greenhouse, wondering at how it seemed further away the colder she
got. Kurt silently followed her, his
footsteps softer than her own but no less hurried. When they reached the greenhouse, she was tempted to phase them
through without slowing down, but instead stepped aside to let Kurt fiddle with
the lock before opening the door with a sad flourish. “Thank you,” she murmured, the wonderful, humid heat pouring onto
her exposed face before she even entered.
The blanket was dropped in a heap by the door and her sneakers followed
suite as Kurt shut them both inside.
Kitty decided that she was eternally grateful Storm’s mania for
gardening had led the Professor to put in an extra fancy greenhouse including a
thermostat controlled heating system for the winter months. “I can die happy now,” she sighed
aloud.

“Even if
you died happy,” Kurt said from across the planting area, “I would not, for you
would be gone and I would be left alone to weep.”

Kitty was
oddly touched and vexed at once. “Well,
I’m not dying any time soon. I have too
much to do first.”

Kurt set
the basket down on one of the planting benches and rummaged in it for his
abandoned cheese, coming up with the quarter.
The silver glint reflreflected as gold in his eyes as he held it between
two fingers, staring at in wonderingly.
“George Washington.”
Kitty nearly toppled off her
chosen seat—a potting bench—in surprise.
“What did you say?”

“George
Washington. Where did that come from?” He dropped the coin and pressed fingfingers
of one hand over his lips as if afraid words would escape before he could form
them.

Kitty let
out a sharp squeak of delighted surprise before launching herself at him, her
arms going around his neck even as they fell onto the hard packed earth
floor. “Say it again!”

“George
Washington?” he asked between kisses. “Who
is…”

“Don’t
finish that,” she gasped, “Just let me think you’re going to be okay,” she
added before claiming him in a hard kiss.

Kurt let
the quarter drop and sank his fingers into her hair, pushing her onto her back
without breaking the kiss. He knew
this, knew her…he had more memories of it than he could place, memories that at
once enticed and befuddled him. In all
of them, she was wonderfully familiar, but often dressed strangely. Sometimes other people were in them, saying
something he could not hear but he knew to be chiding or teasing About
her, he realized. Before we
became lovers… Most of the memories
were after that, though, most of them were recent. Kitty with her hair splayed on a white pillow, dark halo around
her pale face with rose lips. Kitty
standing beneath a spray of water, looking like a mermaid come true, her eyes
wide and warm, her arms coming to rest on his shoulders as he pulled her clo Ku Kurt blinked and looked down at her as she
lay on the earthen floor of the greenhouse, her dress pulled down to expose her
creamy breasts, faintly tinged blue from the cold air outside. Blue…I’m blue… His hand rested on her ribs in sharp
contrast to her smooth pale skin. “I’m
blue…and…furry…” he said aloud, the words thick in his throat.

“So?” she
breathed. “I don’t care!” Fervently, she kissed him again, making him
moan softly. She placed frantic kisses
along his throat and jaw. “You knew it…you
recognized…”

“I don’t
know what I knew,” he responded, quickly losing his faculties. He knew how she felt, knew it like he knew
his own name. He knew that if he
touched here…

“Harder,”
Kitty whispered.

Kurt
obliged, his mind strangely split. Part
of him was watching in clinical detachment, seemingly recording this for posterity. The rest was becoming drunk with Kitty’s
presence, his body responding despite his confusion as her legs wrapped around
his back. “Katzchen…”

“There,
Kurt,” she breathed as his hands moved in familiar and enticing patterns. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as
she felt his length press against her open womanhood, her body hot and shaking
with want. Kurt’s eyes clouded briefly and
she touched the side of his face. “It’s
okay,” she murmured. “Please,
Kurt. I love you.”

The words
echoed in his ears. She’s mine,
he hissed at some unseen Other. Mine
and you can’t have her! With a slow
thrust, he entered her fully, her body bowing and voice sharp and ecstatic in
the still room. He knew her heat, her
quivering responses to his every movement and touch. He knew it and would never tire of it, even as most of his mind
swam in confusion as to how he knew…

Kitty felt
like her blood was swimming with gold and silver sparks as her release washed
over her, her body tightening around his.
Kurt’s hoarse cry in her ear made her cry out in turn as he filled her
with hot climax, her grasp on him never loosening. “I love you,” she breathed again as he stopped moving within
her.

“Me, too,”
he sighed. Gently, he moved away from
her, pulling her to him again as soon as he was able. Kitty murmured softly, her eyes already drifting shut in post
coital somnolence, but Kurt would not sleep.
Who the Hell is George Washington? And why do I know these things?






 



[1] English in
the time of Robin Hood did not look like Modern English. Rather, it bore a resemblance to German
tongues (hi, Foxy, lol) and Norman, among other things.