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Perfectly Normal	By : Nemain Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 6947 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Perfectly Normal
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-Mise en Scene: Coffee and Cream
- 36
- 37
- 38
Perfectly Normal Chapter Thirty Seven

Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad
Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (TM), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch
and Uberbeta... Ever wish days had a fast forward and pause button?
InterNutter,TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and
wondermous for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: Just smite 'em a tiny
bit... Morgan: *stalkgloke * Readers/Reviewers: AFFN is STILL
problematic so I may just wholesale move all the fics to another
site. Sucks to lose all those reviews and years (gah) of hard work
but I've lost patience with AFFN entirely. Thank you for reading and
reviewing as you can! :) Oh! And a Caveat...this chapter contains
some pretty...graphic...imagery and some people might be put off by
it. If cutting bothers you, skip it.

Amara rotated then counter rotated her
feet, staring at the pale paint on her toenails. “That's
enough,” she intoned mildly. She did not look up as Lance rose
to his feet, standing over her as she reclined on the bed, resting
her weight on her elbows. “I'm tired of hearing about Mark and
Mystique.” She had been tired of it ten seconds after Lance
had begun but, feeling indulgent, had let him go on and on about his
theories on the Black Lab and how it seemed to be some sort of BDSM
club and just what the librarian and Magneto's right hand woman were
doing there.

Lance raised a brow but did not say
anything else on the subject. He shivered slightly, Amara's window
open to the night air and plunging the room to temperatures he
thought were too cold for inside a house. “Now what?”

“Is that the way you talk to
me?” she chided gently, sitting up and swinging her legs over
the edge of the bed in one smooth motion. Naked, she padded over to
the small, two drawer dresser that served as her altar/memory chest.
After a moment's consideration, she pulled open the top drawer and
selected her bronze-bladed knife, shutting the drawer with a push of
her hip before walking slowly back towards the bed, her hips shifting
in time with her step, swaying in an almost hypnotic motion.

“Uh, I take it back?”
Lance creaked, his eyes drawn to the long blade in her hand.
“Amara...”

“I'm not going to hurt you,
silly,” she laughed, setting the blade down by the bed on her
nightstand. “It's for later.” She reached out and took
hold of his turgid length with her left hand, using her right to take
his wrist and pull him closer, their knees butting together as she
halted his forward progress. “Tomorrow, the film crew will be
kicked out,” she said as a matter of course, her fingers moving
nimbly along his arousal as she continued her train of thought. “I
think that we will be done with them before lunchtime.”

“What...” Lance paused to
steady his breath as Amara's tongue darted out to lave the very head
of his manhood. “What makes you think that?” He curled
his fingers into fists at his side, knowing how much she hated it
when he grabbed hold of her head or tangled his fingers in her hair
during this act. I am not a toy,
she had scolded him. You cannot just grab my ears like
handles and have at it. At the
time, that had made him feel bad but now, looking back, it made him
want to giggle. Not, he decided, the best idea while she had his
most sensitive body part in her mouth. The feeling of her tongue
sliding along the underside of his length undid all of his attempts
at keeping his breath steady and calm. He choked on a gasp as the
warm, wet confines of her mouth took him in further, drawing on him
to the point where his knees threatened to give way. She exhaled
softly through her noise, her breath sending a frisson of pleasured
awareness through his spine, making tendrils of warmth wrap around
his limbs and curl into his belly as he grabbed hold of the bedpost
for support. He wondered, briefly, if he needed to pick up Mark and
Mystique from their weird little date but that thought was scoured
from his mind as Amara pressed firmly against him, her bare breasts
rubbing against his thighs, the tiny and hard buds of her dusky
nipples becoming focal points for almost all of his awareness as she
took him further into her mouth, her tongue sliding against the soft
skin of his member and making him shiver against his will. She
moaned softly around him and Lance gasped aloud, the vibrations from
her throat making the tendrils of warmth in his body explode into
rivers of heat. “Princess,” he panted as she quickened
her pace. His eyes closed tightly and he gritted his teeth, trying
to stave off his reaction to her ministrations. She let go of his
wrist and moved her hand lower, skimming her fingers along his thigh
and making him whimper slightly at the sensation. He felt his
release building to the point it would be impossible to hold back, an
almost painful tightening in his gut and lower, heat building quickly
under Amara's touch. He gasped her name again, feeling himself
tighten and the pressure suddenly, sharply release. The familiar,
exciting wash of pleasure and completion was coursing through his
veins when a sharp and painful burning exploded in his thigh, near
his outer hip.

“Mine,”
she breathed, swallowing thickly as she pulled away, still holding
the base of his member in one hand as she tilted her chin up to look
at him. The bronze knife was clutched in her other hand and she
dared Lance to protest with her gaze. “No matter what happens
in the coming day, this marks you as mine,” she expounded,
releasing him from her grasp. She pressed her fingers against the
cut in his thigh, staunching the tiny rivulet of blood blossoming
there. “It is my mark.”

“You cut
me!” he hissed, torn between anger and the remnants of his
arousal. “What the FUCK?”

“You will
have to choose,” she breathed, her eyes hooded and dark as she
stared at him, her face flushed like the Oracle at Delphi. “This
marks you as mine, no matter what happens.”

“You're...you...”
Lance shook his head, searching for his pants. “I need to go
do homework.” He glanced at the wound and saw that it was not
the single line he had assumed but rather three lines, overlaid in
what looked to be some sort of letter or symbol. “Amara...”

“Hush,”
she ordered, her voice normal again, the familiar tone back. “Storm
is going to kick out the film crew tomorrow. They've overstepped
their bounds. But something is coming...” she frowned and
tilted her head to the side like a confused bird. “Something
bad.”

“How do you
know?” he demanded, pulling his jeans on over the still-seeping
cuts. “Who'd you hear it from?”

“No one,”
she murmured. “Not a living soul...”
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