Shiva

BY : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Dragon prints: 5097
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—CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Okay. I am
officially no longer in a snit so I can be all groovy now. Foxfeather is a goddess and Ted is
inexhaustible (I suspect some mojo on her part, but so long as it’s okay for me
to do the same with Joaquin and Billy…lol).
InterNutter, Maxwell Pink and TC are lovely chocolate-coated goodness
for archiving and putting up with flooded inboxes every time I send another
chapter! And to everyone who
read/reviewed: I have a shrine built to
you in my backyard where I engage in wine-soaked orgies while the ducks play
canasta with the goose in the kitchen.
Just kidding about the orgies…or am I?
;)

 

 

Jean felt
the now-familiar melting start low in her groin, sending tendrils of almost
painful desire through her abdomen and legs, making her eyes dilate in the
half-light of late evening at the mansion.
The smell of hydrangea[1]
bathed her in on the night breeze and she gently bit the inside of her lower lip
to keep from sighing luxuriously. It
took her a moment to realize that this rising lust was not truly her own but a
projection from someone nearby. Mildly
disappointed but coming[2]
to own this tide of heat for her own, feeding off this energy being inadvertently
sent to her, Jean struggled to sit up and seek the source. Her rib sent a shock of pain through her
body but a new wave of desire subsumed the searing red sensation with a purple,
soft one. Geezum crow[3]…
I have got to thank whoever this is…Wowza… The sensation increased and Jean
had to settle back against the garden bench, her ribs long forgotten in the
liquid heat pouring through her veins. Who
the Hell is out here? Or are they just
really projecting? And do I care either way? Jean sighed aloud then and felt her skin flush with
ghost-touches, someone else’s hands caressing someone else’s flesh…If this
is Bobby and St John, I may kick their asses after kissing them both soundly
for this… Jean felt vaguely guilty,
like she was a peeping Tom. Does
this count as self-gratification or cheating on Scott? She dismissed both thoughts out of hand—It’s
not like I’m doing it on purpose…Okay, I could block it, but…Oh. Jean tightened her hands on the armrest
behind her head and curled her toes with a new crash of pleasure over her
body. She could feel a faint sheen of
sweat seep across her brow and start to trickle down the back of her neck, and
it was like this that Scott found her.

“Jean?” He sounded shocked to her buzzing ears. “What the Hell…” He had come out to the garden looking for her, knowing how she
liked to read there to relax. If
this is a dream, I am never, ever, ever going to wake up…

“Scott!”
she gasped, her eyes flying open and fixing to his even as she panted in
excitement.

He was less
than a yard from her and could practically feel the heat coming from her body;
in that moment, Scott desperately wished that he could see her without his
glasses, to see exactly what her skin looked like flushed with passion, to see
her eyes in their true color, boring into his as he brought her pleasure even
greater than she was obviously feeling then and there. “Who is it?”

“No…idea…Scott…”
Jean looked away then, struggling for control. “Help?”

His heart
lurched to his mouth and he felt his already tightening arousal suddenly become
rock-hard. Ouch. Switch to boxers tomorrow… “Jean…I want to but I can’t if you’re
not…yourself…” Damned fearless leader mode… Fuck a duck. I am such a stick in the mud!

Jean’s eyes
fluttered shut and she took several deep, calming breaths. With great effort, she creakingly opened her
fingers on the armrest and flexed them, bringing back circulation. Her skin was cooling but the desire was
still throbbing between her thighs. I
can do this…control is good. I can get
through an entire pep rally sitting with the guy’s soccer team while the
cheerleaders shake their asses in those ridiculous skirts. I can do this… “You…are…no…fun…” she
panted. “For a change…” With a wince,
she pushed herself upright.

“Let me
help…” Scott surged forward then, chivalry rising above lust. I want her so bad but I can’t have her if
I’m not the one making her feel that way…

“No!” she
snapped, rising painfully to her feet.
“I can take care of myself…” She let the double entendre hang as she
turned on her heel and lurch-walked to the mansion.

“Shit,”
Scott said softly. “What did I do now?”

 

Amara slept
somewhat peacefully. Lance made sure of
it. The day had been rather uneventful,
all things considered. The assorted
mutants, despite having a day off of school mid-week, were well behaved, some
actually doing school work while others kept to themselves, playing computer
games and the like. Amara had seen
Kitty once, speaking only two words to her, “Welcome back,” before disappearing
to her own room again. Lance had found
her there, kneeling before her statue of Poena and whispering to herself. Creeping cl, La, Lance realized that she was
speaking her native Latin variant, unintelligible to him. He did not dare interrupt her, not while she
was so unguarded. She would kill
me. Quietly, he shut the door
behind him and sidled to the bed, carefully laying on his stomach, facing her,
not daring to shift for fear of a random squeak of protest from the
mattress. Amara raised her hands in
supplication and Lance caught Tabby’s name, spat with vehemence by the Nova
Roman. Quickly and quietly, Amara
produced a small pouch from a string around her neck and emptied it into the
offering dish before the statue. With
her gold knife, she cut a lock of hair and added it to the bowl and then,
before Lance’s startled eyes, split the skin on her forearm efficiently and
soundlessly, letting the blood drip from the thin line into the dish. Lance tensed, ready to leap on her if Amara
showed signs of doing more, cutting herself again, hurting herself in the name
of personal strength. Lance was so
involved in his own thoughts that he almost missed her rise to her feet and bow
low before Poena, pausing for a moment before turning to her bed. “Oh.”

“You don’t
seem surprised to see me, Princess.” Don’t
act like Freak Show, all drooly. Just
be cool. Like you have every reason to
be here aside from the fact you want to do something girly like cuddle. Ugh.
Cuddle—need to find a manlier word.


“I just
expected you to be standing. I could
smell you come in.” She tapped the side of her nose vaguely, not coming closer
but peering at him as if peeling his outer layers to see his soul.

“Smell
me? I showered…” Lance surreptitiously
checked his B.O. and found…Nothing.
Wonder what she’s on about?

“Your
cologne. I know it.”

Sheesh. I knew I shouldn’t wear cologne. Pietro
always did say it was a girly trait.
“I’ll never sneak up on people if they can smell me coming.”

Amara
raised an eyebrow and crossed to him, sinking into a half-lotus position near
his head. Lance rolled to his side and
propped his head on his palm, eyeing her assessingly. Finally, she said “What do you want?”

“To finish
what we started earlier…” Before Jean
had her incident, Lance had managed to get Amara into a passionate kiss, his
hands caressing her breasts and sides, eliciting moans of pleasure from his
girlfriend. Before things could get
more interesting, they had to break apart.


Amara
smiled faintly. “I think that can be
arranged…I feel almost my old self.”
Despite her words, she was still a little sore in places where her bones
were knitting and she was prone to headaches if she moved too suddenly. “In fact…” she murmured, sliding one bare
leg, exposed beneath the shorts she wore, “I feel quite like my old self…” she
continued as her toes nudged Lance’s wrist, making his arm shift and his head
fall.

Hope
glinted in his eyes. “How much like
your old self?” Pain good…pain
nice…Amara can punish me anytime she wants to.

“Have you
been a good boy, Lance?” she purred, shifting so that one leg rested across his
ribs and the other trailed to the floor, her thighs parted a mere six inches
from Lance’s face.

“Mmmm,” was
his incoherent response, his eyes fixed on one olive-toned thigh.

With a bare minimum of movement,
Lance pressed his lips to the inside of Amara’s knee and suckled softly,
drawing a soft moan from the girl before she remembered their game. “I didn’t give you permission…” she growled,
drawing her legs up and away from Lance’s questing mouth.

“Please?” he murmured, the word
coming easier with each time they played at this domination. “Please, Princess?”

“Why should I? What have you done to deserve it?” She remained laying down but draped her legs
over his side now, pinning him in place and putting the curve of her outer
thigh temptingly close to his mouth.
She smiled to herself, feeling his ragged breath on her skin and knowing
that her affect on him had not diminished.


“I took care of Tabby for you…”
Lance closed his eyes and tried not to smell her very faint perfume and musk
enveloping him.

“Did you? How do I know for sure?” Amara made her voice petulant but she
had trust in Lance, something she would never admit on pain of death for fear
of exposing her weakness.

Lance, however, snapped. Moving like a striking snake, he sat up and
rolled Amara onto her stomach and straddling her across the hips. She gasped and slapped at his legs, trying
to make him move, until he pinned her hands above her head with one of
his. Close to her ear, he breathed,
“You know for sure because I love you.”

“Shut up!” she hissed and arched
weakly against his restraint. Her
healing ribs protested only faintly so she tried again, earning a sharp nip on
her ear from Lance.

“No, you shut up…” You said you
liked it when I’m angry…suck it up, Princess! “You listen to me! I love you and you’d better get used to it,
God damn it! You can take control in
bed all you want—in fact,” it was his turn to purr now, his voice silky in her
ear and making her shiver, “I really like it.
I like how you take control of me, make me want you so badly that it’s
all I can do not to throw you down and fuck you until you scream
yourself hoarse. I can make you do
that—you know it and I know it. And I
know something else…” Lance pressed
into her, his arousal obvious against the swell of her buttocks. “you love me.”

Amara
gnashed her teeth against a rising scream of frustration. “No, I don’t. I want to fuck you and that’s it.”

“Liar,”
he mocked, licking the curve of her neck.
“When you tell the truth, you can have control again…Until then, I’m in
charge, baby.”

“Lance,
let me up!” She wriggled quite
enticingly against his arousal, making Lance suck the inside of his cheeks to
suppress a moan. “Now! I order you…”

‘Nuh-uh,
honey pot.[4] You’re staying right here…” Still holding her hands captive with one of
his own, Lance swept her thick hair from her neck with his other hand and pressed
a lingering kiss to her nape, where he knew it would make her nipples tighten
and her skin dance with gooseflesh.
“You love me and you’re scared.
Big bad Amara is scared…”

“Am
not!” she growled childishly.

“Are
too!” he sing-songed back. “Just think
of me as your personal boogey man until you admit it…Or the thing that goes
bump in the night…” he added, grinding aginast her for emphasis. Amara could not help the soft moan that
escaped her then and Lance nipped at her neck in approval. “Tell you what…I’ll let you up and
willingly, happily, do whatever you want me to. Anything at all…just tell me you love me and
mean it.”

“I
can’t!”

“Can’t
or won’t?” She sounds like she’s
going to cry…

“Damn
it!” Amara writhed again, weaker than
before, and pulled against his grip. “I
won’t say it.”

“Too
bad…and I was a very naughty boy this week…in dire need of
punishment…” Lance sighed
theatrically. “Well, off to bed
then. Have a nice night….Alone….allllllllll
alone…” Moving fast, he moved off of
her and was at the door before she could roll onto her back.

“Asshole!”
she spat.

“Love
you too, Angel!” He blew her a kiss mock-cheerfully and shut the door quickly
between them. His false smile sliding
from his face, Lance sank weakly to the floor.
Damn it! If she could just
prove it to me, I wouldn’t feo…gao…gah!
Sad, depressed, lonely…I love her and she’s right—it makes you
weak! But damn it, I want to be weak
with her, not because of her… Lance
forced himself to his feet and trudged sadly back to his little-used room to
sleep alone, all traces of desire melting away the further from Amara he
was.

 

Rogue and Toad sat awkwardly in the
wingback chair for over an hour, Todd’s arm carefully around her middle back,
Rogue’s shirt protecting his bare arm. “So…” he finally said.

“Don’t talk.” Rogue did not snap,
just stated the words simply.

“Okay.” Silence fell again and Todd
sighed, sinking back against the soft chair.
“Back hurts,” he explained when Rogue shot him a look.

“Sorry.” I’m an ass—he’s hunchy and sitting up straight like that’s got
to be murder…”Look, the thing is…I don’t know.”

“How’s that, yo?” he said quietly, still tense enough to fall
into his “street” speech pattern.

Fuck it. He’s got to be the only one so far who’s not
trying to feel bad for me because of my skin or trying to tell me to bugger off
when I try to explain what I got from Tabby… “Okay. Here it is.
I got a healthy dose of Tabby earlier when…um…” Her powers of speech
failed her, hot shame and anger rendering her silent.

“Yeah…earlier…” Todd prompted,
studying his dirt shoes where they pressed into the cushion of the chair,
pretending not to feel the heat from her sudden full-body blush. Hot Rogue…bad Todd! Think good thoughts…Not that kind of
good!

“Earlier…And Tabby had seen someone…something…Todd,
I think there’s a dead body at the boardinghouse and I think it might be
Kitty’s cousin, from some of the stuff I picked up.”

Swallowing dryly, he managed to
ask, “How?”

“Pietro, she had a memory of her saying
that Ruth was waiting for Magneto and she wasn’t going anywhere in the bag…That
the…” Rogue hated herself then for feeling tears prick her eyes, “that the
blowjobs were great and all, but, in his exact words, ‘How about a ride?’.”

Todd sighed to himself and chanced
tightening his arm around Rogue. He
barely noticed her mild gasp of surprise—no one ever sought to touch her much
more than that which was polite or mandatory.
“Pietro,” he said finally, “is a jackass.”

Rogue snorted. “Understatement.”

“How do you know there was a body
in the bag? Maybe Tabby was just…I dunno…wishful thinking?”

Rogue mulled this over. “Maybe.
But I told the Professor. Logan
and Storm are out now, looking for Ruth.
Professor says that they have a very good idea where Magneto was holding
Kitty and where Mystique might be…”

At the mention of his housemother’s
name, Todd cringed. “What’s she got to
do with anything?”

“She was in on it. According to what I’ve heard, at any
rate. She…” Rogue sighed again,
suddenly very tired, “she was the woman in the van.”

“Fuckin’ A!” Todd had never wanted to kill Mystique
before that moment, but the feeling was sudden and certain. “She…she was so close? And no one noticed?”

“No one noticed,” Rogue confirmed a
tad embarrassedly. “She’s very good at
hiding…she got out before Logan could sniff her out, but he was able to pick up
her trail until she crossed into the woods across the way. That’s when the Professor sent him out.”
Rogue leaned ast Tst Todd then, making his heart race impossibly fast. Licking her lips in sudden nervousness,
Rogue whispered, “Thanks for comforting me, Todd.”

Todd blushed beet red. “I, ah, didn’t do nothin’. Just sat here…”

Rogue had a rather sickening
realization then. Fuck me! I like Todd Tolensky! I like Todd Tolensky! Toad!
ARRRRRRRRRGH!!!!! How? Why?
Shit! I know how and why…
Her next words were carefully chosen, her revelation rocketing from one corner
of her mind to the other. Tabby, in her
head, was crowing for Rogue to “jump him!
You know you want to!” while her own voice was telling her to stop
listening to her heart and be “Fucking logical.” “Todd, have you ever…you know…wanted to spend time with me?”

Erk. Ribbit…If you only knew…I spend time with you all the time…ever
since I met you…every night you’re in my room with me… “Um, yes…”

Rogue bit the bullet then and
decided to lay it on the line. “Here it
is: I’m not nice. I never have been and
never will me. I enjoy being a bitch,
to tell the truth. I hurt peoples’
fegs….gs….a lot. I’m not proud of it,
but it happens.”

“Okay….” Where is she going with
this?

“And,” she was on a roll now, “I
have been hurt by every guy I’ve liked since as far back as I can
remember. Evene one of ‘em. They either try to change me or hate the
idea that they can’t screw me or even cop a feel without dying.”

“You’re dating the wrong guys,
yo.” Todd’s voice was soft and his
accent was heavy, evidence of his nervousness.

Rogue sighed. “I’m going to tell you something and I don’t
want you flipping out. I may be giving
myself a lot of credit there, but I had to warn ya…Todd…” Rogue took a deep
breath, then another. “Todd, I like
you.”

“Whaaaaa?” he said, his jaw
dropping wide open.

“Ilikeyou. A lot.” Rogue’s face burned and she
struggled out of the squishy armchair, striding to the window while Todd stared
into space. “So…yeah. You make fun of me, I kick your ass.”

“Nghrkx.”

“What?”

“Okay…” Todd managed to choke out
the second time. “You…you like me? Like me-like me?” At Rogue’s furtive nod, he asked, afraid to find out, “Why?”

“Because…” she did not hear him
rise from the chair and cross the room to stand behind her in one bound.”

“Because why?” he whispered, scared
she would take it back.

Rogue, startled, turned to face
Todd, his eyes just below hers and necessitating that she look down into their
large green pools. “Because,” she
finally answered, “you’re you…”

 

Jamie cringed and felt like
gagging. “What is it, Jamie?”

“Todd and Rogue….He’s….ugh!” A shudder
running the length of his body, Jamie darted back to the table from the doorway
to the rec room. “They’re all…lovey
dovey!”

“Don’ be daft, lad!” Rahne snorted,
shoving her bowl of ice cream aside and going to look for herself. “Ugh!” she groaned a moment later. “Are they putting crack in the water here?”

“I don’t know…but ugh!” Jamie shoved another mouthful of
cherry-vanilla swirl into his mouth and closed his eyes against the sudden
headache that ensued.

“Ugh just about sums it up.” Rahne swirled her spoon through her melting
ice cream and shoved it aside roughly.
“We’re not that gross, are we?”

Jamie gave it considerable thought. “Well, we really haven’t done
anything…” he allowed.

“Kissed,” Rahne pointed out
blushing.

Jamie, equally red, nodded. “Yeah…”

“That’s something, isn’t it?” Rahne shrugged, aiming for an uncaring
gesture but ending up with one that was more insecure.

“Yes! I mean…yes. Of course it is.”
Jamie shoved his bowl to join Rahne’s.
“But TODD and ROGUE!”

Rahne sighed. “Take it where ya find it, big boy.”[5]

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jamie felt his brows creep upward, his mind
screeching to a halt mid-kiss fantasy.

“It means, Jamie me lad,” Rahne
scooted around the table to slide up next to him, “that ye can’t really help
who ye love or like. If you get tha
chance an’ ye miss it,” she made a fluttering gesture with her fingers, “it’s
gone…Wouldn’t you rather try somethin’ and know then that you didna’ like it
rather than wonder?”

Jamie, fascinated by the smattering
of freckle’s on Rahne’s nose, could only nod.
“I…I guess so!”

Rahne bumped his shoulder with
hers. “C’mon, Jamie! What if I told ye that I had a wonderful ice
cream flavor, something fantastic, an’ I give ye a bowl…But it’s green and
black an gray an lumpy wit weird bits on it…”

“Rahne! Ew!”

“Hear me out…I tell ye it’s Heaven on
Earth, just ugly. You’d still not try
it?”

“Ummmm….” Jamie slanted his eyes towards Rahne and found himself
nodding. Can’t refuse her…superpowers
failing…

“So ye try it,” she continued,
warming to her theme, “an it’s all your favorite flavors rolled into one. It just looks nasty. Really, really nasty. Every time ye eat a bowl of it, people gag
and run from the room. Would ye give it
up? Would ye never eat it again?”

“All my favorites?” Jamie sighed and leaned lightly against
Rahne in an almost virginal flirtatious gesture. “I guess not…”

“Would ye hide it?”

“Eating it or the carton?” he asked
seriously.

“Either…both…” Rahne tentatively let her hand find his and
rested her smaller one atop.

Jamie shyly turned his hand
palm-up, lacing his fingers loosely with hers.
“Well, I might at first, then I’d get tired of having to be sneaky…”
“So,” she asked, a little
roughly, “ye’d just ignore people when they said it was disgustin’?”

“I guess so.” Jamie sighed and rubbed his thumb across the
back of Rahne’s hand.

She smiled a little and squeezed
his hand, drawing it to her mouth and kissing his knuckles, Jamie’s eyes
widening exponentially. “That’s Rogue
and Todd, I guess. He’s the ice cream
and she’s got to decide.”

Jamie swallowed twice, throat
suddenly dry. “How, um…how can you
tell?”

Rahne opened her mouth to respond,
Jamie’s hand still held tightly in hers, resting just beneath her chin, when
the door between the kitchen and the mudroom slammed open, hitting the wall
with a resounding thud. “Fucking hell,
Remy! I just asked a simple question!” Jubilee’s voice trailed the Cajun through
the door.

“An’ I answer you, chere! Leave off!” Remy spun to face her, presenting his back to a rather surprised
Rahne and Jamie. Bracing his hands
against the door frame, Remy effectively blocked Jubilee from entering the
kitchen.

“No!” Jubilee stamped her foot, feeling childish. “You avoided answering me! You danced and dodged and damn it, Gumbo, I
want to know what the fuck is wrong?”

“Ah, want us to leave?” Jamie asked
quietly. Remy turned and stared as if surprised that Jamie and Rahne were
there.

Jubilee’s face appeared below Remy’s
arm where it was braced against the door frame. “No. I’m leaving.” She ducked and tried to pass but Remy was
quick, scooping her up under one arm. “Cheese
and crackers! Put me down!”

“C’mon, Jamie…I think there’s
something I need to show you in the…ah…”

“The Danger Room?” he suggested
brightly. “Show me stuff there!”

“Right on, Jamie….” Rahne and Jamie sauntered from the room,
their steps breaking into a fast cadence once they entered the Rec Room. Rogue’s surprised ‘Hey!’ echoed through the
kitchen as the couple nearly bumped into Rogue and Todd, awkwardly embracing in
the window seat.

“Put me down, Remy!” Jubilee
snarled, struggling agaithe the Cajun’s hold.


“Non! You jus’ go harin’ off like you tail on fire if I let you down!” Remy looked around for somewhere to put her
and only saw the counter and table tops.
“Fuck.”

“Ha!” Jubilee struggled again and nearly succeeded in making him drop
her.

Remy smiled suddenly. He swept Jubilee into a two-handed hold and
shoved her against the counter, her feet a good six inches from the floor and his body holding her in place, reminding
them both of the previous night’s activities.
“If I let go, you not runnin’ eh?”

Jubilee’s eyes were round. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

True to his word, Remy let her
down, but partly from caution and partly from desire, remained close enough to
brush against her. “I not answer you,”
he finally said,” because I not have an answer.”

“It was s simple question—why’d you
run off all day?”

“An’ I not have an answer!” Remy’s eyes were narrowed in annoyance. His glower was softened, though, when
Jubilee jutted her chin stubbornly and crossed her arms over her chest. “You cute like dat, chere…”

“And you’re changing the
subject!”

Remy sighed. Come clean, homme… “D’accord,
Jubilation. Remy be embarrassed. Las’ night…”

“Was fantastic,” she murmured,
coloring slightly.

He felt his heart race a little and
almost forgot his embarrassment. “But
it was too fast, chere. I wanted to
make our first time….special, oui?”

“It was special…” Jubilee tipped
her chin up to face him, “Anytime with you would be special.”

“Mon chou…” Remy shook his head
slightly, “Remy be a lil’ bit embarrassed dat I not be…a gentleman, eh?”

“Remy,” Jubilee was whispering
then, looping her arms around his neck, “that’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Non, ch it’ it’s not okay. Dis ol’ Cajun has more self control den
dat. For cryin’ out loud, p’tite! We
was in de hallway!”

“Remy, you’re forgetting something
important. I was there, too. I could have said no, I could have insisted
we go to my room…but I didn’t. I wanted
you then and I want you now. I’m not
some blushing virgin who needs roses and wine and romance to have sex.”

Remy sighed again, sounding
sad. “Chere, Remy wants to give you
that…I want you to feel romanced, I want you to feel…” he cast about for a
brief moment, Jubilee’s proximity making his facility for words stick. “I want you to feel cherished.”
“Oh.” Jubilee let her arms drop and felt red-hot
with embarrassment. “Wow. I feel…Oh.”


“Exactly… “ Remy chewed on his
lower lip momentarily and gazed into Jubilee’s eyes. “Chere, I want to make love wit you, not jus’ have sex…”

“Mmmm.” Jubilee leaned against him, pressing her forehead to his chest,
inhaling deeply of his scent. “I want
the same…but Remy, we don’t have to have a big seduction scene every time…”

“I know, p’tite, mais I want to
make it special every time…”

Jubilee wound her arms around his
waist and Remy reciprocated, letting his hands trace idly up and down her spine
as they just stood, the sound of Todd and Rogue’s murmured conversation from
the rec room drifting in over the sound of the crickets in the evening twilight
outside. Finally, she said, “So…want to
make it special right now?”

“Remy be tinkin’ you never ask…”

 

“That Remy boy looked terribly
upset…”Astrid sipped her cooling tea in the solarium. Remy and Jubilee had stormed past, words and hands flying in
heated discussion not five minutes before, startling the trio as they relaxed
against the backdrop of purpling dusk.

“Remy’s very…emotional,” Kitty
offered. She shrugged at Kurt’s
snort. “What? He is! He’s just good at hiding it. I mean,”: she shifted, wincing as her
shoulder sent a pain signal to her brain, “just look at how he looks at
her! Makes me all hot and
bothered…”

Astrid grinned as Kurt looked
startled. “Katzchen! Remy?”

“Please, Kurt! She’s only human!”

“Et tu, Mama?”[6]
Kurt sighed and slumped in his chair.

“Kurti, we’re teasing you!” Astrid
nudged his leg with her foot. “Kitty
only has eyes for you!”

It was Kitty’s turn to slump. She ducked down in her chair and suddenly
found her teacup very interesting. Kurt’s eyes on her in hot regard made her
flush as if they had not already been lovers. Don’t you dare feel guilty,
Kitty Pryde! It’s natural, it’s good,
and damn it, it’s Kurt! Loving him is
never going to be wrong neither is wanting him! The Professor is on the trail of Magneto, he says Ruth is going
to be fine, and I have no reason not to trust him… Chancing a look at her
boyfriend, Kitty found his eyes luminous and fixed on her face. “Um…hi?”

“Hello,” he murmured throatily, all
the while aware of his mother’s presence.
Clearing his throat, he asked, “Mama, Kitty, would you like to take a
walk in the garden?”

Kitty murmured ascent but Astrid demurred. “Nein, I think I’m going to go work on that
sweater I’m knitting for your father.
He goes through those like tissue paper!”

“My father is hard on clothes,”
Kurt explained. “He won’t change to
practice for the shows.”

“He just goes in whatever he had on
that day,” Astrid took up the story. “He
says it saves on costumes.”

Kitty quirked a brow. “That’s a very Kurt-like statement.”

Astrid laughed and Kurt
mock-glowered. “You two go for the
walk. I’m going to the study and
knitting. Come tell me goodnight when
you’re done?”

Knoddnodded, the realization that
he would be alone with Kitty making him slightly dizzy. “Ja, of course Mama! We won’t be long!”

Kitty murmured, “What about the
German lessons?”

Kurt colored beneath his fur. “Ah, we might be a little longer than
anticipated…”
Astrid, already on her feet,
narrowed her eyes assessingly. “Hmmm….Just
be careful. Don’t take to the language too
enthusiastically,” she said, leaving no doubt as to the fact she knew what they
were about.

“Mama!”

“We’re not….Oh, hell!”

Astrid waved her hand
dismissingly. “I know nothing. I don’t want to know anything…I’m going to
knit.” She hurried from the room with
one fond glance at her son.

“Well,” Kitty said after a
moment. “That was awkward as balls.”

Kurt snorted. “You’re telling me.” She’s just right there…scoot an inch or
two forward and you can touch her…
Kurt’s eyes devoured Kitty, making her feel exposed and cloaked at once,
making her be the one to close the distance, to slide from the divan she sat on
to the small loveseat Kurt sat on in one easy movement. “Schatz…”
“Kurt,” she responded, her
lips close to his ear. “I missed you.” Understatement… Kurt opened his mouth to say something but
found himself being soundly kissed. For
a few minutes, nothing existed other than Kitty, a feeling so wonderful that
Kurt wanted to cry with it. “Kurt,” she
finally murmured, “I want you.”

Shaking badly, he pulled away. “Katzchen, not until your birthday!”

“Please?” She moved closer and pressed her breasts against his arm. “I’m okay to do this…besides, it’s life
affirming,” she offered brightly.

Kurt chuckled shakily. “Please…think of how good it will be if we
wait…”

“Think of how good it would be now…” Her voice was throaty and sent spikes of
need to Kurt’s groin.

“Liebes…I want to. God, how I want to…But I think…” He gasped in surprise as she closed her
teeth over the point of his ear. “Gott
in Himmel!”

Kitty laved the skin with the tip
of her tongue, knowing how sensitive his ears were. “If you don’t want to make love, can I at least please you?”

“W….was?” Kurt had no blood left in his brain.

“I want to be with you every way
possible. I was afraid I’d never see
you again and now I can’t get enough of you…”
Kitty shifted carefully and straddled his lap.

“Kitty!” Kurt’s hands clamped over her hips but he found that he could not
move her. He just plain did not want
to. “We can’t….”
“We won’t,” she assured
him. “Just relax…you need to relax…” She kissed him then, her breasts brushing
his chest temptingly. One of her hands
found his tail and brought it up to her lips, transferring her kiss from his
mouth to the spaded tip.

“Erk,” he muttered, unable to form
more than one syllable, even then not a syllable of any true meaning.

“Shhhh…” she soothed. “Just let me…” Kitty nuzzled his neck, licking and biting the whole while she
was fiddling with something out of Kurt’s line of sight. “Shit,” she whispered. “Hold on a sec.” With a small indrawn breath, Kitty passed in and out of phase
quickly and fished inside her top. “Taa
daa!” She waved her bra over her head briefly and smiled at Kurt’s startled
expression. “It is a useful mutation
after all…”

“Mmmm.” More, please…

Kitty seemed to hear his unvoiced
request and leaned in for another kiss, taking his tail back into her hands,
stroking it and caressing the sensitive tip, making him moan into her
mouth. Unbidden, his hips pressed his
arousal to her c mak making Kitty return the moan. His hands tried to work under her shirt but she pulled away,
shaking her head. “No…let me…” Kurt’s hands dropped to his sides as Kitty bit
her lower lip, suddenly shy. She
brought his tail back to her lips and licked the end shyly. Kurt gasped aloud
and closed his eyes, the sensation very nearly the as as other
sensitive areas of his body. He felt
cloth against his flesh and opened his eyes to be confronted with Kitty’s
exposed breasts. She dragged the wet
tip of his tail between her breasts and arched closer to him, pressing her damp
core, hot even through her jeans and his pants, against his throbbing erection. Kurt growled as she circled one erect nipple
with the point of his tail, clutching at her thighs to hold her in place,
breasts close to his mouth. Kitty
shivered, Kurt’s exhalations brushing her nipples and sending darts of lust to
every nerve ending in her body. Kitty
ground against him and he immediately decided to ignore her orders to “let her…” He clamped his mouth over her full breast
and nipped at the flesh with small, firm bites, laving the skin between each
nibble. She cried out softly and
tightened her grip on his tail, rocking into his touch. Kurt sighed happily and switched to her
other breast, leaving one nipple red and wet from his ministrations. Kitty repeated her earlier actions with his
tail and he closed his eyes at the feeling.
“Kurt, do you want me to…um…you know…down?”

Kurt paused mid-suckle, opening one
eye while never breaking contact with her breast. She looked askance at him, her free hand driftingn ton to the
obvious bulge in his pants. “No,” he
murmured around her breast, “If you did that, I don’t think I’d be able to stop
there…”

Kitty sighed. “I want to do something for you.”

Kurt had a wicked idea then. He moved, pulling her to his chest before
moving so that she was on her back beneath him. Quickly, he slid his tail beneath the waistband of her pants and
whispered, “You want to do something for me?
Moan…”

 

 

 





[1] No idea if
this grows in upstate New York. Smells
fanfuckingtastic and is quite lovely…But I’m too lazy to go to my herbal and
look up where it grows so lets pretend it’s supposed to be there…Maybe Storm
grew it in her greenhouse or something…

[2] no pun
intended…

[3] Some Yankees
I know say this a lot---down here it’s Geezly Crow…Both a derivation on “Jesus
Christ!” but more polite…

[4] Actually,
Honey pot is kind of…sexual. Sometimes
it refers to a certain portion of a woman’s anatomy…ahem…ya know…Not exactly
conversational use (“And if you turn to page 187, there is a diagram of the
uterus and the honey pot”) but it’s used from time to time. Strip club near here is called that…Okay,
enough rambling…back to the story!

[5] Eddie Izzard
moment. Talking about the President of
Burundi and coffee…have to hear it.
Funny as hell, really. Love
it.

[6] I’m stealing
again—from Julius Ceasar: “Et tu, Brute?” (And you, Brutus?) Not correct
Latin for speaking to one’s mother, but still…


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