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1-Shiva
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 and 17
17-17
18-19
19-20
20-21
21-22
22-23
23-24
24-25
25-26
26-27
27-28 (edited)
28-29
29-30
30-31
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32-33
33-34
34-35
35-36
36-37
37-38
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39-40
40-41
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60-61
61-62
62-epilogue
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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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