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 NINE (NC-17)







SHIVA—CHAPTER NINE (NC-17)

 

Standard disclaimers apply—I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I’m just playing with these characters for a while then I’ll put
them up all nice and neat and good as new.
Well, some may be a little sweatier than before, but they’ll be
happy. ;)

 

 
N ThN Thanks millions to Foxfeather for beta-ing and keeping
Kurt coherent. Go read her fic and be
happy. J

Thanks to everyone who reviewed—the ducks are practicing
even as we speak. J

 

 

 



She waited in
the dark for him, knowing he would come.
They liked to pretend that it was just coincidence that they met every
night, like he was just out for a casual run and shs jus just out for a stroll
and “Oh, hey! What’re you doing
here?” Rogue could feel him before she
saw him and she was not sure how much of that was from him touching her so
often and how much was wistful thinking.
The leaves swirled on the path and there he was, not even out of breath,
grinning before her.

“Rogue.”

“Pietro.” By tacit, silent agreement, they started
walking down the path, the same thing they did each night. They did not speak much, finding it too
awk to to converse about mundane topics when they both knew what they were
doing was anything but normal. For what
seemed like forever they walked, the only sound the old leaves left over from
winter crunching under foot and the occasional sound of a night bird,
chirruping at their intrusion. The bend
in the path was ahead and they slowed, each growing uncharacteristically nervous
as they reached the small wooden bench placed there by the parks department as
a point of interest. “So…”

“Yeah.” They sat, neither looking at the other. Rogue knew and desired what was coming,
feeling pathetic for how much she wanted it.
Pietro did not seem outwardly nervous or particularly interested, but
Rogue knew better. He was in her,
now. He was fast, but not fast enough
to avoid being zapped just a little.
She had some of his memories floating around in her head, popping in at
odd moments. She knew how he felt, like
his insides were moving a million times too fast for his outsides, how he only
felt _real _ when he was
running, moving, doing something. She
was not foolish enough to say she loved him, but she would admit to wanting
what he could give her. Brief, fleeting
contact, small touches to save up and combine into one long, lingering caress
in her mind. Rogue would fantasize
about him but sometimes his face would blur and become indistinct, like she was
looking through thick ice. Remy still
had a soft spot in her heart, but Pietro was gaining ground. The one sore point she had, the one thing
that tainted their meetings, was what she knew about him, the one thing that
knew that would bring their illusion crashing down. He would never see the error in the ways of the Brotherhood. She herself had seen the difference in
thinking between her group and his, she herself had changed her own
philosophy. Pietro never would, she
knew, no matter how much he may seem to want to do so. Pietro cleared his throat, breaking her from
her thoughts. “Um…?”

“Yeah?” Rogue crossed her legs and shifted to look
at him, taking in the way he seemed to glow in the moonlight as it filtered
through the trees. _He looks like an
angel, but not the cute kind. The
vengeful kind, with swords and fire… _

Pietro slit
his eyes sideways to look at Rogue, unaware of her poetic comparisons, unaware
that the pale lunar light was making him look hard and angular and, to Rogue,
altogether appealing. “Are we gonna do
it again?”

“You sound
like you don’t want to.”

“Well…I
mean, what am I getting out of it?”
Pietro huffed out a frustrated breath and Rogue leaned back, crossing
her arms defensively. “You
get…benefits…and I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

“Well,
yeah…a little. Not as much as some
people I could name, but a little.” _A
lot more than you think. _

“I get slow
after I touch you. I’m still fast as
greased lightening, but _I can tell! _ ” He was on his feet then, pacing angrily back and forth. “Rogue, it’s like this. I want to keep meeting but I want more. I want to be able to…to do stuff.”

“Like
fuck?” She uncrossed her legs and stood
slowly, her movements fluid and seductive.
Her anger and shame were well-hidden behind an old mask.

“Um…” Pietro stepped back several paces, suddenly
wary. “I never said that…”

“You didn’t
have to. You think I don’t want the
same thing? Fucking Hell, Pietro! I’m a seventeen year old female. Trust me—it’s on our minds pretty much all
the time, too.” Rogue tossed her hair
from her face and glared at the blond youth.
“You’re not the only one in this…this…thing! I’m just as frustrated if not more so!” Holding up her hands, showing him that she was still gloved for
his own piece of mind, Rogue stepped closer.
“If you want to , sa, say so now.”

Pietro
seemed to vibrate with the need to move, but he held still. He stared at her long and hard, peering into
the depths of her eyes. “What am I
like, in your head?”

“You’re
you.” _You think in Russian somet.
.
I don’t understand it but I know what you feel. You hate norms, you hate me sometimes,
you hate the X Men because we’re not like you, you hate yourself because you’re
not like us. You want me, you want your
father, you want love. In the end it’s
what you want that’s going to get you. _

“I’m
me? Who else would I be?”

“You’d be
surpri” Ro” Rogue sighed and averted her eyes.
Pietro’s gaze was intense and she was finally growing
uncomfortable. “L Pie Pietro, I was
serious. If you don’t want to do
this…” He moved so quickly that Rogue
jerked in surprise. Her glove was off
of her left hand and, her white skin exposed to the still-cool night air.

Her fingers
curled involuntarily, unaccustomed to exposure. “Don’t…” he said, sounding a little strangled. Rogue opened her hand so that it was
palm-up, as if accepting an offering.
Pietro stared at it, memorizing it, it seemed. For a long, quiet moment nothing happened and then, his hand moving
slowly enough for Rogue to see it this time, he reached out and drew his finger
down her palm. It was still faster than
any normal person could have done it, a mere blur to her, but for Pietro it was
almost unbearably slow. He staggered
back, feeling weak and clutching at his head in sudden pain.

Rogue gasped aloud and held her
hand against her breast, the physical reality of the action and the sudden
influx of Pietro making her feel something akin to pain. She wanted to run now, to run so fast that
she could burst into her most basic particles, becoming part of the night around
her. This was more of him than she had
ever felt before, ten times sweeter than anyone else she had ever
absorbed. Whatever tenderness he had
been feeling when he touched her was flooding through her nerves and veins now,
making the world seem both painfully slow and horribly fast at the same
time. Pietro was on the ground, not
quite unconscious but not quite present, either. Forcing herself to think reasonably clearly, Rogue fell to her
knees beside him, retrieving her glove from his clutched hand. Once properly protected, she made him lay
flat and turned his head to one side, making sure he would not choke on his own
saliva or vomit should it come to that.
_Shit. Holy mother fucking
shit. He touched me and he meant
it! It’ll never work but he touched me
and God, how can I be so happy when I think I just killed him? _ Slapping his cheeks, his hissed
“Pietro! Pietro! Can you hear me? C’mon, man…”

“R—Rogue?” He stirred and shifted, trying to sit up
only to be pushed back down. “I’m
okay—let me up.”

“Why the Hell did you do that?”

“Are you pissed at me now?” He sounded like a scolded child.

“I don’t know what I am!” Rogue rose to her feet but, try as she
might, she could not turn away from him.
“Why did you do it like that?”

“I just…I dunno. I wanted to actually feel you this
time.” He looked down at his legs and
sighed. “I gotta go.”

“You can’t run. You’re
drained.” She pressed her gloved hand
to her eyes then, unable to look at him anymore. She felt guilt washing over her, despite her inner knowledge that
it was not her fault, Pietro touched her like that of his own free will.

“How long?” Pietro sounded panicked, as if he had not
thought of that consequence before she spoke it.

“Dunno. It varies.” She could already
feel his presence waning. “Probably a
few more minutes.” The touch had been
brief but long enough…

“I’m gonna go anyway. I gotta…sleep…or something…” Pietro struggled to his feet and dusted his
clothes off where they had come into contact with the ground. “Need me to walk ya?”

Rogue snorted, her attitude firmly
in place. “Can take care of my own,
thanks very much.” Her look softened
when she looked at the sad expression on his face, though. “Look, Pietro, I’m not mad…you just scared
me.”

“You? Scared?” The concept was
foreign to him. Rogue and fear were two words that did not belong in the same
sentence, much less the same book.

Rogue was moved to do something
then that she had never done before.
She closed the distance between them, half-expecting Pietro to step away
from her but he held still. “Um, I’m
not going to drain you…” she explained hastily. Before she could lose her nerve or he could respond, she pressed
her gloved fingertips to her own lips, then to his. He looked like a scared rabbit, so wide were his eyes, and she
very nearly laughed. “Good night,
Pietro. See you at school
tomorrow.” He was still standing there
when she rounded the bend in the path.

 

Logan sniffed the air as Rogue
passed him on the stairs. “Who you been
with?”

“Huh?” She froze, eyes as wide as Pietro’s had been less than half an
hour earlier.

“You stink like fear but it ain’t
yours…and like something else…something…earthier.” Rogue had no doubt in her mind that Logan did not mean dirt. She knew that he could smell her desire for
Pietro, for contact, and felt her face color in embarrassment. Logan took pity on her, narrowing his gaze
but softening his tone. “Get to bed,
Kid. It’s nearly ten and you have class
in the morning.”

“Sure…night, Logan.” Rogue stumbled up the stairs and fairly dashed to her room, the
last of Pietro’s energy giving her a burst of excitement and speed. Logan stared after her, wondering just what
she was getting into. Whatever it was,
he knew, it would come to no good end.

He walked the rest of the way down
the stairs careless of his footfall, not taking his usual precautions to mind
the thumping noise his boots made.
Strange things were afoot in the mansion and it was making Logan wary. _Alvers is closeted with Chuck, Amara is
still not coming out of her room but I know she’s moving around in there—I hear
her and smell her. Kitty is…Kitty. _ The girl in question was sitting on the
floor outside the study, Kurt close beside her. They seemed to be just sitting but Logan had the distinct feeling
that there was more going on. _Looks
like some sort of Vulcan mind meld.[1]
_ The couple had not noticed him
yet and were still sitting, nearly-touching, staring at each other’s feet as if
they held all the answers in the Universe.
“Hey—it’s time you two get to bed.”

“Oh. Hey, Logan.” Kitty looked
pale, her eyes dark holes in white skin.
Kurt, for once, passed up the chance to make a comment about Logan’s
choice of words, letting the double entendre slip by him. “I’ll go up in a minute.”

“Ja...we’re just…here.” Kurt’s hands curled into loose fists and his
tail made half-hearted swishes on the marble floor.

“And just what are we doing…here?”
Logan asked, one brow creeping upwards.

“Being.” Kitty looked away now, eyes wet with unshed tears. Kurt’s fingers twined in the folds of
Kitty’s skirt that were laying on the floor, careful not to actually touch
her. “We’re just…being.”

“Ah.” Logan looked both ways down
the hallway and, finding himself to be alone with the couple, leaned in almost
conspiratorially, “I’ll be back this wayhalfhalf an hour. Until then, we haven’t seen each
other.” Kurt’s eyes widened—Logan’s
bedtime roundups were almost famous for their punctuality. Logan nodded once and turned on his heel,
not looking back as he rounded the corner into the hallway leading to the
elevators.

Kitty sighed and slid a little down
the wall. “Why are we sitting here? As
opposed to another room?”

“It’s where we stopped…”

They had been walking around and
around the grounds of the mansion, Kitty talking about Ruth and what she had
been like, Kurt listening, laughing when the stories were funny and letting her
cry when they were. T. They had ended
up back inside the mansion, standing in the foyer, just staring at each
other. The need to touch had been great
but Kurt had kept his hands to himself, knowing that any frustrations could be
worked out later, in his room, despite lingering shame he still felt over such
an act. Kitty had sighed once or twice,
leaning towards him as if she wanted to embrace, but instead made for the
study. He followed her and came up
short when she stopped, her gaze catching the one mirror he had not
covered. “I look like Hell.” The mirror was an antique, something the
Professor had always had and always would, Kurt thought. It was a small round piece, something that
was common during the Revolutionary War, black-spotted around the edges from
age and tarnish. Kitty’s face was a
little distorted in the old surface but she held no illusions about her aranarance. “I shouldn’t even care…”
“I’m sorry, Liebes—I missed
that one.”

“It’s okay. I’m not the only person in the house and it
was selfish of me to ask for all the mirrors to be covered. I could just as easily avoid looking at
them.” Already, Jubilee had complained
about the lack of shiny surfaces to check her makeup in. “I’ll uncover them before I go to bed.”

“Don’t worry about it,
Katzchen. Let them respect what you
need to do.” Kitty had sat on the floor
then, her legs not wanting to support her weight anymore. Kurt dropped to join her, ignoring the
uncomfortable position he had to fold his own unusually shaped legs into in
order to squeeze between Kitty and the wall.

They were quiet for several minutes
when Kitty murmured, “After shiva is over, my mourning is done. I’ll not speak of her again.”

“Why not?” Kurt kept his voice low, matching her
tone. She was so close that he could
smell the salt-sugar tang of her skin, her own scent without perfume or lotion. She also smelled very faintly of copper,
like blood, and he flushed with the embarrassing knowledge that she was on her
period. Verdammt sensitive nose…For some reason, he found himself to be
powerfully aroused by the knowledge that he could smell her so clearly, that he
was privy to possibly her most intimate secrets just from being near her

“You don’t speak of the dead. Let them rest. In fact, I should not even speak of her now.” Kitty shifted and folded her hands around her
bent knees. “I just can’t understand
it.”

“You’ve been depressed, Katzchen…”

“Never enough to want
to…to…die!”

“Shhhh….Cry it out, Liebes…Ruth had
some other problems along with being depressed. She just couldn’t cope…”

“That doesn’t help, knowing
that…” She was snuffling into a ratty
tissue dragged from her waistband.

“I know, but it’s the truth.” Kurt fished in his own pockets and produced
a clean tissue, taking the old one from Kitty and pitching it into the
wastebasket under the cigarette table nearby.


“And you’d never lie to me, huh?” She sounded like she was calming down, but
Kurt felt his insides wrench into knots of nausea and pain.

“Katzchen…I need for you to listen
to me. I would never hurt you if I
could avoid it.” He tugged urgently on
her skirt, desperate to hold her hand, to have some sort of contact with her.

“Kurt, what’s wrong?” Kitty pulled away just far enough to look
him in the eyes. Her own searched his
worriedly, seeking the reason for his sudden tension.

“There are some things that happen
in life that might make you very angry, but you need to know that I love you.”

“I love you too, Kurt…” she
answered carefully, not sure if there was more.

“Nein, you don’t understand…I love
you. With every single atom of my being.
More than breathing, I love you.”


Kitty felt glued to the floor at
his sudden intensity. His eyes were
hungry, it seemed, devouring her where she sat. She could not form a coherent
sentence and instead pressed her hands to her thighs to keep from grabbing
him. After several false starts, she whispered,
“No matter what you do, I’ll love you.
There is nothing, no lie, no crime, no _anything _ that can make me stop loving you.” Kurt visibly relaxed but Kitty was still
worried.

“Do you want to walk some more,
Liebes?”

“No…let’s just sit.”

“Here?”

“Yeah…” She sighed and shifted again so that she was closer to him, still
not touching but close enough that she could pretend. “Let’s just be…”

“Be…? Be what?”

“Just…be.”

 

 

A/N Remy and Jubes and their date are in the next chapter, and just
what Mystique may or may not be up to…
bsp;bsp;

 



[1] He’s a
Trekkie. Who knew? J


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