Shiva

BY : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Dragon prints: 5125
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.






SHIVA—CHATPER THIRTY-FOUR (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Foxfeather is a superspecialwonderGoddess…and she has
Ted, to boot! (Stay in bed like a good
boy, Ted!) InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink
are loverly and go visit their sites to revel in all the wonderful fics
there! Reviewers/readers: the ducks
have made effigies in your honor and dance around them in a crazed frenzy of
Pagan lust nightly (which may or may not be a good thing…depending on how you
feel about ducks and Pagan lust…)

 



Scott had
intended to just hold Jean, enjoy her proximity. He really did. However,
the curve of her neck proved too tempting to ignore and he found himself
pressing his lips to the spot where her pulse jumped, making her sigh
softly. Encouraged, he trailed his
fingers down her arm and found her hand, twining his own fingers through hers
and bringing her palm to his mouth, kissing the tip of each finger in turn. Her eyes fluttered open and she murmured “Scott,
what about Kitty?”

“Jean…” He sighed and pressed his forehead to the
side of her neck. “Kitty is missing and
we can’t do anything about it yet. We
can’t run off after her and just…find her somewhere!”

“I’m sorry,
Scott, but she’s all I can think about right now…Kitty, alone and lost or
worse—not alone…” Jean shuddered
and pressed herself closer to her boyfriend.
“It isn’t you…”

“I know, I
know…I feel bad for wanting you while Kitty is missing, but I do.” Scott’s voice was muffled by Jean’s shoulder
but his words were tinged with sadness.
“It’s like part of me is trying to go on, business as usual—no offense—and
another part of me wants to go balls-out and find Kitty, consequences be
damned.”

Jean made a
snorting noise that bordered on a sniffle and pressed even closer, if that were
possible. “Human nature…sexual activity
is life-affirming and it’s natural for you to seek out something comforting
during times of stress…”

“Always my
logical Jean…” Scott moved his head slightly to press a small kiss into her
hair, just over her ear.

“I am, aren’t
I?” she said sadly. “Scott, I don’t want to be so…stiff…all the time.”

Bad
choice of words, baby. “You’re not…it’s just how you deal with stress. I want sex, you get all Vulcan.”

“Shaddup, Summers,”
she growled mock-angrily and nipped his ear.


Scott froze at the rush of heat to
his stomach, feeling it radiate down his legs and up his chest. His hands clenched at Jean where they rested
on her back and hip, fingers digging into soft flesh in a concerted effort
against pushing her onto her back and having his way with her. “Jean…don’t.”

Jean’s eyes were wide when he
peered at her through slit lids. She
asked softly, “Would it be so bad, if we did?
Would it be so bad with Kitty missing?
I mean, I know I said it would, but would it, really?”

Scott felt the muscles in his jaw
work mutely as words failed to form coherently. Finally, hs abs able to come out with, “Jean, I want to so much…Thinking
about that night last December keeps me awake at least once a week. I can’t look at you without some part of my
mind knowing what you feel like, what we feel like…” He paused to take a
calming breath, valiantly ignoring the beseeching look in Jean’s eyes, bright
with growing desire and sadness. “If I close my eyes, I can see
everything. I can even smelu, tu, the
heat from your skin…” This is just making it worse…”What I’m trying to
say, Jean, is that, despite the fact I want you so badly I would gladly kill
anyone who got between us, I don’t think we should make love right now after
all.”

Jean grew very still, very
quiet. Scott expected an outburst,
sulking, something other than quiet.
She closed her eyes and finally turned her face towards the pillow,
pressing her cheek against the cotton cover.
“Scott,” shispeispered, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t you start, Jean!” he said a
tad more harshly than he intended. “This
isn’t your fault and it isn’t because you’re too logical or something!” He took her chin and forced her to turn her
face to his, her eyes opening against her will. “When we come together again, I want it to be free from worries,
not some desperate, heated rush to relieve tension…”

“Desperate and heated sound okay
sometimes…” she muttered weakly, her face flushing tomato-red. Damn my red-headed complexion…

“How about,” he asked, folding her
into an embrace again, reveling in the feeling of her breath against his
throat, “desperate and heated in a leisurely way after things get
settled?”

“Promise?” The word brushed his
Adam’s apple and made gooseflesh dance down his spine. Scott could only nod. “Good…I’ll hold you t.”
.”

Scott chuckled weakly, feeling the
depth of possibilities the promise offered.
Jean murmured into his neck again, nonsense words as she drifted into a
light doze. He was too tense now to
sleep, though. He could think of
nothing other than Jean, sometimes an angel and sometimes a vixen, but always
against him and moving with him, offering pleasure beyond what his mind could
comprehend. Jean, in her relaxed state,
picked up on Scott’s mood if not his thoughts directly. In her doze, she began to move against him,
pushing her breasts into hiss ans and her hips against her semi-rigid state. “Baby…”
he whispered softly, gently pulling away his more sensitive regions. She whimpered softly but stopped. Her hand drifted to his side and made small
movements there, her breath still ragged with projected desire. Scott was about to bite the bullet and wake
her up when her body went rigid as Death.
“Jean!” Scott said a little too loudly as her eyes flew wide.

“No!” she screamed, sitting up so
suddenly that Scott fell from the bed and hit the floor, sending his glasses
flying. Before he could close his eyes,
a two-foot wide hole was blasted through Jean’s wall beneath the window. She was frantic, clawing at her throat and
gasping as if she could not breathe, her eyes wildly roving the room. She rolled off the bed and fell to her
knees, gasping loudly and turning blue.
Scott found his glasses through cul pul patting and started in terror as
he saw Jean. Footsteps thundered down
the hall and the door flew open as he reached his girlfriend, shaking her
gently.

“What’s going on?” Amara
snapped. It did not even register in
Scott’s forebrain that Lance was with her and that Amara’s shirt was inside out
and backwards. Jean fell into a faint,
making Amara move quickly. “Roll her
over!”

Scott unthinkingly complied, mind
racing with panic. Lance was on his
knees across from him, patting Jean’s cheeks, saying her name over and
over. “Baby,” Scott said, rubbing her
upper arms.

“Is she breathing?” Amara had
noticed blueblue lines around Jean’s lips and pushed her attitude problem aside
for the time being. “I don’t think she’s
breathing.”

The sound of wheels on carpet drew
no notice as the three teenagers huddled over their friend. The Professor knew what was going on, had
already heard and felt the same thing Jean had. Only his advanced strength in abilabilities had kept him from a
similar situation. Logan jogged up
beside him and started forward in parental-type panic No, Logan—they have
this under control.

Amara had tilted Jean’s chin
downward so that her mouth was open, preventing her tongue from blocking her
airway. “Lance…” her voice
wavered. He nodded and pressed his ear
to Jean’s mouth to check for breath.
Scott, in the meantime, was feeling her wrist and had one ear pressed to
her ribs, desperate for a pulse.

“Shit,” Lance hissed. “Nothing!”

No, Logan—trust me—Jean is
reacting to a psychic phenomenon and will recover…The children have this under
control! Logan twitched,
crouching low and ready to spring forward and grab Jean to take her to the
infirmary.

Scott and Lance exchanged looks and
seemed to share their own psychic connection, Lance starting chest compressions
and Scott waiting for the signal to breathe into Jean’s lungs. Amara was stroking Jean’s hair, saying her
name over and over, panic lacing her tone.
“C’mon, Jean! Damn it!” Scotowleowled before pushing more air into
her lungs.

Lance bit out a curse, “Fuck it,
Grey! Come the Hell to!” He pressed hard and there was a wet crack[1]
and suddenly too much give. He recoiled in momentary horror and then gritted
his teeth, forcing himself to continue.
Scott and Amara looked positively green. “Summers…”

Scott sealed his mouth over Jean’s
in a horrific parody of a kiss, breathing his life into her. Logan did break away from the Professor
then, looming over his charges in concerned panic. “C’mon, Red!” he muttered, ignored by the students.

“What is happening?” Astrid’s dark
hair, barely threaded with silver, hung damply to her shoulders, her bathrobe
clutched closed at her neck with trembling hands. She heard the commotion as she was toweling off, her mind on Kurt
and Kitty and barely registering the sounds until minutes after they occurred.

The Professor murmured “CPR.” He
was calm but radiated tension. He could
read what Jean was feeling and the fetal-state thoughts flickering through her
fading mind and knew that she would come conscious if given the chance, as it
were. But he could also tell that what they
had felt had stricken her near senseless in panic.

There was a coughing sound and a
hoarse shout from Lance and Scott as Jean heaved and retched. “Turn her over!” Logan barked, shoving
between Scott and Amara. The Nova Roman
slid her arm under Jean’s shoulders and, with Logan, gently but quickly turned
Jean so that she would not aspirate. “Jean! C’mon!” Logan growled.

“Jean!” Scott rubbed her back and
felt tears streak down his cheeks. Lance
rocked back on his heels and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth,
fighting sympathetic nausea. Amara
merely looked fear-stricken, holding Jean’s long hair back from the pool of
vomit. The red head shuddered and
sucked in a breath only to gag on a string of sputum, necessitating another
round of retching.

“Stop!” she managed after a moment,
twitching away from the hands on her back and arms. “Stop, please!” She could
feel the Professor’s questing mental fingers and let him read her, showing him
what she felt as she slept, not caring that he could also see the red passion
coloring her early doze. Struggling
weakly to her hands and knees, sending a sharp mental request to whoever put
out a hand to steady her to leave her be, Jean eyed the puddle of her sick with
embarrassment and disgust. “Scott…”

“No problem, Jean.” He wanted to
shake her for scaring the Hell out of him and demand what was wrong while at
the same time he wanted to hold her and cry his eyes out in relieved
panic.

Astrid, mothering mode kicking into
overdrive, strode forward and crouched to meet Jean’s watery gaze. “Get into your bed and one of them will get
that nice blue doctor fellow. Go…” Jean
let Astrid take her by the arm and help her into bed, Amara and Lance still
kneeling on the rug as Scott hurried to find cleaning supplies. Logan huffed out a breath and turned angry
eyes to Professor Xavier. Astrid,
settling Jean comfortably and ordering her to take off her vomit-stained shirt,
joined Logan. “What the Hell is going
on? You know something…”

Professor Xavier sighed. “Jean, would you like to tell them or should
I?”

“Um, I guess I will…” her voice was
harsh and low. Scott returned with a
handful of paper towels and some spray cleaner and froze, sensing impending bad
news. “Kitty is in a lot of trouble…It’s
like she was calling out to me…to us...” she nodded towards the Professor, “I
felt what she was feeling…it’s awful!” She could not help the few tears that
streaked down her cheeks. Taking a
shuddering breath and wincing in pain from her rib, she continued, “I think she
was drowning…I felt like I was under water…Like I had a weight on me but it was
liquid. I couldn’t breathe…I was…God,
we have to find her!” she sobbed, the feelings becoming too much—Kitty’s panic
and fear blended with her own, the feeling of impending death too much for Jean
to handle.

Logan moved then, faster than
anyone had expected. “Chuck, for once I’m
going with the Elf on this one. We have
to find her now, none of this dicking around! For all we know, Half-pint is…” he choked, the first time anyone
had ever seen or heard Logan upset to the point of emotional outburst.

Professor Xavier said into the stunned
silence, “Storm is in the Blackbird.
Radio her to return and send out a team to scan the area. We know Kitty has to be close—Jean’s
powers are strong, but for her to be affected so strongly, Kitty must be near
by…” He did not add that he, too, had
felt the same thing but could not get a clear mental picture of her
location. Either my powers are slipping
or Kitty is further towards death than we realize…she had entaental picture of
her location whatsoever… Logan stormed from the room, bursting into a run
as soon as he cleared the door. Scott
dropped his cleaning supplies and jerked his chin at Lance and Amara, the two
rising and moving to follow him out the door.
“Amara,” the Professor said quietly, “you’re in no shape to go. You still have injuries healing and I will
not jeopardize your well being when you can be just as effective here.”

“How? Answering phones and organizing search parties?” she
snapped. “Kitty is missing and maybe
even dead…” she stopped short, realizing absurdly that she sounded like Scott just
then. “Fine.” She turned on her heel and strode from the room, following Lance
and Scott’s fading footsteps.

Astrid sank to sit on Jean’s
bed. “My. Oh, my…”

“I’m sure Kurt’s fine…” Jean
murmured, herself not so sure of that statement.

“Ja, but if Kitty is… I can’t even
say it…he’ll die from grief…” She showithwith ill-suppressed emotion and looked again at the Professor, still in the
doorway. “Why aren’t you helping them?”
she snapped.

“There is not much I can do in a
search…Kurt can block me so I cannot read for his thoughts…and if Kitty is…unconscious…the
best I can hope for is a residual dream or emotion, not much to track…”

“Where is there water near here?”
Jean gasped, the pain in her side growing more intense the longer she sat
up.

“The lake, the bay, the river…” The
Professor ticked off on his fingers.

Astrid’s eyes grew wide, as did
Jean’s. “The river,” they said
together.

“It might very well be the bay, or
a swimming pool…”

“No, Professor…You know as well as
I do what Kitty was feeling. It was…fast. Rushing. Cold.” Jean closed her eyes to block out the resurgence of those
feelings. “It has to be the river.”

A door slamming downstairs halted
conversation. “Rogue,” the Professor
said. “She heard us. She did not want to come in but she heard us
talking. She’s taken off to find Kurt.” He sighed and wheeled into the hall. “Now we have three to find…”

 

Tabitha stared out the dingy window
in the boardinghouse, the day passing before her eyes. Pietro was nowhere to be seen but she knew
he was around, she could hear him moving in the hall from time to time. Worse than a roach. Skitters away whenever you come near…
Since the night before, she had been almost numb to everything around her. Todd had thrown her bodily into the bedroom
when they returned to the boardinghouse, she being too weak from being bound
all day to fight much. The trip to the
boardinghouse had been awkward, her long frame draped awkwardly over Todd’s
stooped shoulder. Her nails bore traces of mud and dirt from brushing the
ground during the trip and slime still dotted her cheeks and lip, marks of Todd’s
impromptu gag. Once, she had managed to
free herself from his grasp but his lightening-quick tongue had tripped her up
and his leap onto her chest had knocked the wind out of her. Even during the light of day, she cringed at
her ready submission to Todd’s actions, her acquiescence to his commands to “keep
quiet” and “stay still.” Fucking
dumb bitch moment…Must be Amara catching…Lance can’t love her. It’s some mojo thing she’s got working on
him…Must be one hell of a lay to make him act like that…Even as she thought
it, though, Tabby knew in her shattered heart that Lance was lost to her, her
attack on Amara severing whatever remaining sinew bound him to her. A scuffling sound in the hall made her move
then. She crossed the room and threw
the door open to reveal Pietro, dragging a large bag resembling those used by
coroners, down the hall. Fuck
me! It is a body bag! “Pietro…”

“Go back in your room, Boom
Boom. You didn’t see anything,” he
growled, not even trying to hide his cargo.


“What the Hell are you doing?” she
shrieked. “Is that…that a body?” She crouched on the floor and poked at the
black bag, feeling the soft give of flesh over the hard resistance of
bone. “Shit! Fuck me like a two dollar whore!
Who is it?”

Pietro kicked out at her and sent
Tabitha sprawling. “I can’t say—if he
knew you saw this, he’d kill you!” he cried, snapping his jaw shut on any
further words for fear he had already said too much.

“He? Who he?” Tabby dusted
herself off, her mind momentarily off of Lance. Seeing the forced blank look on Pietro’s face, a light went on in
Tabby’s brain. “Hell, Magneto! Where’s he at? And who the Hell is in the
bag?” She crowded him, pressing her
breasts to his arm. “C’mon…tell
me! I’ll make it worth your while!” she
purred. Sex was a useful tool for her,
one most males she knew had fallen victim to at one time or another, with the
exceptions of Todd, Blob, and Kurt.

Pietro was no exception. He knew he could close his eyes and pretend
Tabby was Rogue if he needed to. Besides,
I can’t keep this to myself…I’m not going to be the only one going down if this
goes to shit! “The person in here
isn’t dead…Just out. I need to get them
somewhere for Magneto to pick up…He says it’s for a grand experiment, one that
will make mutants dominant over humans for good!” He could not help but sound a little proud at his father’s accomplishments.

“Do you know how it is?” Tabby bit her lip in a way that she knew
affected almost any male on a visceral level.

“Kind of…Look, I really, really can’t
tell you that!”

“Even if I…” Tabby let her hand
drop suggestively to his crotch and traced her fingers up his zipper. “Twice?”

Pietro weakened. They’ve been out of it for this long…another
hour or so won’t hurt! “Twice?”

“Mmmm hmmm…” She licked her lips and willed herself into
readiness. Pietro ain’t that bad…wouldn’t
kick ‘em out of bed for eating crackers…”But you know this means I’m in on
whatever you’re up to with Magneto?” Anything
to give me a hold on those freaks at the mansion!

“Tabitha,” Pietro husked, her
fingers on his growing bulge making it hard to think clearly.

“Please? I’ll do this as often as you want, wherever you want…” Slut.
I’m a slut and that’s okay…right?

Pietro nodded weakly and sighed as
Tabby dropped to her knees, hastily working on his zipper and button. Don’t think of Rogue…don’t think of the
girl in the bag…Magneto won’t mind…he’s always saying I need to relax more…to
slow…OH!

 

 

 



[1] True fact—if
you are performing CPR properly, a rib or so will most likely break. And yes, they will most likely vomit because
you’re pressing on that area. Doesn’t
mean their conscious, just puking.


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