Eye of the Beholder

Author’s Notes: Thank you blue_lioness, Butterick, amh and Arden Shysender for your reviews. Just a little FYI, I’ve decided to split this story in two, but don’t worry about this ending any time soon; we still have to have the big bad come in and do his thing. As always, please enjoy and review.

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Reality no longer exists. She doesn’t know if it’s hot or cold out or if it’s night or day and she’s pretty sure she couldn’t even tell someone her name if asked for it. All that she’s aware of is the warmth of his body, the softness of his fur, his musky scent and his lips.

Dear god, those lips. She could stand there for the rest of her life just kissing those lips and be quite content in doing it. They’re warm and soft and she wonders what they taste like. She’s not sure what part of her brain sends down the command as it sure as heck isn’t the rational part, but the tip of her tongue sneaks out and gently touches his glorious lips.

Before she knows it, his tongue is sliding along hers and a small moan escapes her throat as she holds him even tighter, her hands sinking into his lush mane. He groans in need as the taste of her fills his mouth while his empty hand grabs the back of her head to keep her in place as the other arm holds her even tighter. She can feel his arousal pressing into her hip and she can feel her own body respond to this by heating up the area between her legs. He can smell her and it’s driving The Beast crazy as it screams for its mate.

Eventually they have to come up for air and they stand there clinging to each other for support, neither one sure who’s trembling harder. She buries her face in his neck, panting for air and he can’t say he’s doing much better. It’s not bad enough that most of his blood seems to be holding a convention in his pants, but it’s all he can do not to drag her back to his car and take her in the back seat.

“Hank?” she whispers into the fur on his neck and he’s pretty sure that some of his brain cells are heading south now.

“Yes?” he manages to reply in a fairly normal voice.

“Doyouwanttocomein?” she mumbles quickly and he can feel a shiver run up his spine as The Beast howls with pleasure.

“I would love to go in with you,” he answers and her body trembles against his making him nearly lose it right there. “But I won’t.”

“Care to run that past me again?” she asks, pulling away enough to look him in the face while The Beast screams angrily in his head.

“If I go into your apartment with you right now, neither one of us will leave until Monday morning and neither one of us will be walking properly either,” he explains as The Beast roars in frustration. “I’d rather not give your father a reason to come after me with his shotgun.”

She looks at him with sadness and confusion in her eyes and he gets ready to let her go by loosening his hold on her. He’s sure she’s going to be upset with him, thinking that he’s rejected her and The Beast is going ballistic for him turning down her offer. With a sigh, she lets go of his neck and slides her hands down his chest just before slipping them around his waist.

As he gets over the shock of her not backing away, she lays her head down on his shoulder again. He instinctively holds her close once more and then bows his own head down to bury his nose in her hair. They lean against each other in a comfortable silence, completely oblivious to everything going on around them while they both try to convince their bodies to behave.

“Amanda?” he whispers.

“Mmm?” she hums.

“Does your father really own a shotgun?” he asks.

“Double barrel filled with rock salt,” she answers sleepily. “Has a rocking chair on the porch, too.”

“I really want to meet your family,” he chuckles and she groans.

“Take my word for it, no you don’t,” she states. “They’re certifiably insane.”

“I’d rather deal with crazy than mean,” he quietly sighs.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “Mean people you at least you know where you stand with them. Crazy people are only trying to make you as nuts as they are and they’ll do anything to drag you down to their level. I’d rather meet your family.”

“I think I can handle crazy,” he snickers. “The hostility my family presents me every year I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

“I can handle hostility, open or subversive,” she states. “I deal with it every day at work, so I’m used to it.”

“You mean when you’re in court?” he questions.

“Actually, court is a lot more relaxed than the office,” she confesses.

“Mr. Jones?” he inquires.

“No, Mr. Jones is a sweetheart,” she replies. “Mr. Steele on the other hand could use an attitude adjustment.”

“Because you are an obvious mutant sympathizer?” he asks.

“Oh, I offended Steele long before it was known that mutants don’t bother me,” she responds as she shifts more comfortably against his body.

“How so?” he questions.

“You see, I had the audacity to be born female,” she explains.

“That’s sexual discrimination,” he states, his hackles rising and The Beast growls angrily.

“The oldest prejudice in the world and I’ve been living it my whole life,” she points out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he holds her tighter.

“I’m used to it,” she replies with a shrug.

“But it does leave me to wonder why you would willing go into that situation on your time off,” he muses. “I would think crazy would be a nice change of pace.”

“Because I’m used to dealing with hostility and I’ve sort of developed a thick skin against it,” she states. “You never know what crazy relatives will do or say just to get a reaction out of you.”

“Still, I would prefer the crazy people over the nasty ones,” he says.

“If you’re trying to weasel an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner at my parent’s place, you can forget it,” she tells him point blank, backing off enough to look at his face. “I don’t hate you enough to feed you to that school of barracudas that I call my family.”

“They can’t be that bad,” he insists with an amused look on his face.

“Ever seen the movie Meet the Parents?” she asks.

“I’m afraid not,” he answers.

“The whole premise is a young woman brings her boyfriend home to meet her parents,” she tells him. “In one scene the father hooks the boyfriend up to a lie detector machine. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if my dad had one hiding out in the barn or garage.”

“He can’t be that bad,” he says.

“HAH!” she scoffs. “You should have seen the hoops he made my brother-in-law go through before he and Annie got married. When Annie announced that she was pregnant, Dad didn’t even acknowledge Mike’s existence until my nephew was born. He’s extremely over protective and Mom’s even worse. She’s determined to see me married off no matter what. If I take you home with me, don’t be surprised if you’re frisked for an engagement ring.”

“You still haven’t dissuaded me, my dear,” he chuckles and she groans. “But it is late and I imagine you’re quite tired.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long day,” she admits with a sigh.

She reluctantly steps back out of his arms and he hands back Blue which she immediately hugs to her chest and rubs her cheek against its fur. He reaches out and puts a finger under her chin, gently encouraging her to look up at him. She blushes under his intense gaze, but doesn’t look away and that lifts his heart almost as high as their kiss had.

“Thank you,” he says.

“For what?” she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve done far more for me than you can possibly imagine,” he tells her.

Then he leans down to give her a quick kiss but before he can get away, she reaches out, grabs the front of his jacket and pulls him back for a longer, deeper kiss. Their tongues dance against each other again as their arms wrap the other and their bodies start to respond again. Shakily, they finally break apart when their bodies demand oxygen.

“At this rate, neither one of us is getting to bed,” she gasps as she rests her forehead on his shoulder.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on and our little life is rounded with a sleep...,” he quotes

“Shakespeare again?” she questions.

“It is,” he answers. “The Tempest this time. Did you like it?”

“Yes,” she replies as she steps back to look at him. “It was pretty.”

“Good,” he sighs.

“Drive safe,” she says and then smirks. “Hopefully you won’t be in need of any…restrooms…between here and home.”

“I think I can hold it,” he replies slightly confused for a moment before what she’s implying sinks in. “But if I can’t, I’ll know why.”

“Well, as it is, I do need the bathroom,” she admits. “Good night, Hank.”

“Good night, my dear,” he replies as they finally step apart. “If I don’t see you before you go to Virginia, have a good trip.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I hope your family is kinder this time.”

“Thank you,” he responds. “I hope your family is little less nutty.”

“Thanks,” she laughs as she hesitantly steps towards the door. “Good night.”

“You already said that,” he points out as he watches her go.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did,” she says as her cheeks redden and she starts towards the door without really watching where she’s going.

“Amanda, look…”

THUMP!

“…out.”

“Ouch,” she moans as she rubs the side of her face that had connected with the door jamb.

He quietly chuckles and shakes his head as he steps over to her and carefully takes her face into his hands. After making sure there’s no bleeding and no bones are broken, he softly kisses the bruised area and he can feel her body trembling.

“You know, before I met you I wasn’t this big of a klutz,” she tells him. “I’m not sure I’m going to survive this relationship.”

“You do seem to be a bit accident prone,” he replies with a smile. “Luckily you’re a quick healer.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks as the first signs of a headache coming on start to throb behind her eye.

“The eye that was hit by a Frisbee, it’s completely healed now,” he answers as he traces a fingertip along the once bruised area.

“Oh, well, that wasn’t me,” she replies and slightly blanches.

“Do tell,” he says, his eyebrows about half way up his forehead.

“The receptionist’s brother is a doctor that tries to balance modern medicine with homeopathic remedies and she said that he had a guaranteed way of getting rid of the black eye,” she tells him.

“What did he do?” he nearly demands, worried that she might have done something foolish.

“He used leeches,” she answers looking a bit sick.

“Leeches?” he asks, nearly laughing with relief.

“I grew up a tomboy, but even I wasn’t thrilled with having little, blood sucking slugs on my face,” she grumbles. “Luckily they worked or I was going to have to continuously wash my face for a month.”

“They’re annelids, not mollusks,” he corrects and smiles at the scowl she gives him. “Did you know that leeches are the only parasites that don’t transmit diseases, unlike mosquitoes, flies or fleas?”

“Fascinating,” she replies in a flat voice.

“Well, for me it is,” he chuckles and then gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’d better get some ice on that or you’ll be making a return visit to the good doctor and his leeches.”

“Uhg,” she groans in revulsion. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he replies as she turns and heads inside.

He watches her as she crosses the lobby to the bank of elevators and waits until an elevator opens for her. She glances back, sees him standing there and blushes as she gives him a smile and a small wave. He waves back, continuing to watch over her until the doors close and then he turns to go back to his car, only giving a cursory glance to the security guard who’s obviously ignoring him.

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She closes the door to her apartment and immediately heads for the freezer. She fills a plastic bag full of ice, barely putting Blue down in the process. Once that’s done, she sits down on the couch to watch the news with Blue on her lap and a bag of ice to her throbbing face. A while later she’s staring at the ceiling again, like she was all those weeks ago, completely oblivious to the stories of the atrocities that people are acting upon each other.

“Is he the one, God?” she asks as she absently strokes Blue’s fur.

Not surprisingly, there’s no answer and with a sigh she gets up, turns off the TV, tosses her half melted bag of ice in the sink and then goes to take a shower. She stands under the hot spray of water, lost in thought, replaying every bit of the times she’s been with him. By the time the water runs cold, she can’t even remember if she’s washed her hair.

She gets out, dries off, dresses and heads for bed, carrying Blue with her. She crawls between the sheets, gets comfortable and hopes that exhaustion will soon put her to sleep. But instead, her long repressed libido replays every second of both of their kisses causing her to moan with need. She tries to think of something else, but it’s of no use and it’s not until she puts her fist between her legs and relieves the pressure that has built up there that she can relax enough for sleep to claim her.

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MATE!! The Beast screams as he heads for the car.

“If we move to fast, she will run away,” he quietly explains, not knowing why he’s bothering to try driving some reason into his primal self’s head. “Then there’ll be no mate.”

The Beast growls and hisses at him, but says nothing else as Hank completes his journey back to his car. No sooner is his hand on the door handle then images of Amanda start flashing through his head, some real, some imagined but all of them provocative. Hank groans as his blood starts migrating south again and it’s all he can do to get in the car before he collapses due to blood loss in the brain.

It takes him a few minutes to regain control of his libido enough for him to at least start the car. The drive home is less then comfortable as his pants are painfully tight the entire time. Once he’s parked, he shrugs off his jacket and carries it in front of him as he heads inside as quickly as possible.

As soon as he’s safely in his apartment, he strips everything off and goes to take a shower. As the hot water pours over him, he braces himself against the wall and lets his libido loose. A couple of minutes later he’s biting back a howl as the pressure is released and he leans against the wall in relief and some frustration.

He finishes his shower as quickly as he can and then towel dries himself off as best he can before taking one of his towels and wiping the steam from the mirror. He stares at himself, his blue fur damp and tousled and wonders what she sees in him. A small bit of doubt still tries to eat away at his self esteem, but the memories of those kisses and the doubt withers away.

“Is she the one?” he asks himself, staring at his reflection, unflinching.

Mate, The Beast purrs.

“I hope so, Beast,” he sighs. “I hope so.”

Without another word, he gets ready for bed, cautious optimism making his heart beat just a little bit stronger.